I, the lost one, find my way to the ocean’s shore,
where none can hear my grief above the surf’s roar.
I would drown at once the sound of my own thought-
I would die now and forever to all that can be taught.
The ocean wave rises, threatens and then crashes;
spirit brightens as rolling water softly caresses.
All truth is revealed in the pure and virgin sand,
washed clean of all mark left by unnatural hand.
I read the scattered omens of shell, wood and stone:
only by the songbird’s cry can this blame be undone.
My grief shapes slowly into verse that disappears
along the curving ocean shore of bitter tears.
Darvish walks and walks to find the lost silence
that reveals again the beloved Master’s presence.
Line in italics by Francis Brabazon
