Hope to Return

I remember it sometimes,
a catch of wind on the air
that brings me back to where I started.
I see the trees hanging with moss,
the sea that forgets itself each moment,
and the thick air
that made you half forget what it meant to be cold.

And when I walk the same beach,
the one with the elephant slides
scratched with sand along the toes...
Or when I see the sunbathers
with shining bodies that glow in the light,
and realize they were children
when I was a child...
Or when I watch the sun
sinking into the stupid, gorgeous waves,
and wish it would drown my stupid,
gorgeous self along with it...

Then I know there's no returning.
Can the slide lose its marks?
Can the sunbather be a child again?
Can the sun rise out of the sea?
There's no returning.
There's just the stupid waves,
the idiot sun,
and that awful yearning
to ebb back to nothingness...

I think they call it beauty.

(Photo credit: "ocean sunset" from Seth Stoll on Flickr)

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