In times of ancient, you left your love letter to me upon the shore, an infinite circle, made of sand and stone; drawing me back to you in this lifetime.
The ocean, her only desire, to flow wild & free, with the rhythm of the moon
Where do whispered wishes go . . as they sail off on the wind, without form or direction; do you hear them crying out?
The course of true love never did run smooth.
(William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream)
Standing on the shore,
I put my loving intentions out into the ocean
And feel that love gradually coming back, in waves
She washes over me,
Purifying my soul
The ultimate release, with each pull of the tide