Stream of Creation

Sitting on the beach below the dunes
I have interrupted an ongoing conversation
Between the wave tossed trunk
Of a massive oak,
Now debarked and scoured and bleached,
And a heap of slipper shells,
The skeletal like remains of a mollusk
Fanciful footwear of intertidal fairies.

They speak of being swept into the stream of creation
Even now
And once again,
And kindly suggest that I might relinquish too
And know the journey we are on.

I dig my toes into the sand
Mindlessly considering,
And feel my roots grow deeper
Into the earth and sea and sky.
They grip and purchase
And hold me steadily
On our course.