The Everlasting Sea of Silence

God is by the seashore counting seashells

I’m in the city writing poems

I put the sea in my poem

a sea without colour or movement

or water or salt

without moisture or mist

in its depth there is nothing

not even a seashell

I am sadden by my poem

and with the images it brings

when I read it aloud

also when I whisper it

into the silence of my space

I call my poem

the everlasting sea of silence

and spread it lovingly

between the crisp white pages

of my unwritten book

there it lives for decades

untouched by light or tide

when I finally publish

my volume of sad, heartbreaking poems

no one notices the sea

no one sees the lack of water

through the mist of icy mornings

of my dry seaside