Sightings...

‘’ …then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more...”                                                                      Revelation 21:1

“Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city…”  Revelation 22:1

I fear I have lost sight of you, dear.

The beaches of our past have been each so special, places of walks and talks and dreams.

(There is still a glass of seashells we found together, whelks and augurs,  ceriths and periwinkles, a dusty reminder of our past, moved from shore to desert, just where you left it)

 

Vacations the best of times with the best of friends, sipping wine on the deck just before sunset, our eyes on the horizon to catch a glimpse of sail as we pondered if we too would be there some day; few, then no words as we were silenced by  the sounds of the surf.

 

I have lost track of when I saw you last, dear.

It was always I who would enter the surf first, often alone as I would look back and see you on the beach searching for shells.                               

(Now, the you-that-isn’t-you shuns the sun)

But you were set adrift on your own journey some time back, at first just a bit away, still in sight as we moved on our beach, our directions parallel but slowly diverging.

(It has been a slow drift away)

 

There are those who lose their love in the sea as the deep takes and keeps; there is no need to maintain a lookout any longer. 

(Ours is a different parting)

 

At first the distance was imperceptible as the flood almost equaled the ebb. But you could not, would not see the distance growing. Later, I would catch a glimpse of you and you might wave. The search continued, but what was seen is fleeting, and is not you.

                                                                                                                                                                                             (The broken promise of a whole sand dollar partly buried: only a shard)

 

I tend to no longer search the horizon, dear.

But I stay on the beach

The solitude of the shore is not always lonely

And I seek none other.

 

It is written there are no oceans in heaven.

But even as the river runs through the city,

Whence does it flow?

(Would God take away our beach, once again?)

I think there will be a shore…

Maybe what is no longer needed, is a horizon.

There'll be no more looking or longing to know…