As you walk along the shore,
Take the dissonant seventh to the major key.
Let the resolution
Stand with tiny Emma, the killings, the laughter, the weddings.
Through them you can clearly see the pure distant horizon
When you lift
Your eyes from the depths
And look across the stormy ocean,
Believing that you can and will walk on the water.
Live as though you stood on the
Far
Side of its dark expanse,
Yet love the soft shifting sand beneath your feet,
Kissing the broken shells that cut you.

See in the musical wind your white, crystal visions,
Knowing
And loving its fissures,
Always thwarting the tide from robbing you of
The aching beauty you hold in your palms.
Cast away the dancing ghosts that shadow your footsteps,
Steps of a feather that reverberate like
Earthquakes in the sand.

The violent quakes unearth anew the buried picture frame~
Stoop and lift its unique shape from the grains, dusting off
The sand and salt.
Treasure it, because its substance is
Your certain, priceless crown.
The emptiness of the frame will be your secret,
Fragile
Strength that draws you close, praying
As you arm Emma,
As the salty rain dews your skin,
As the paths wear thin beneath your feet…

Hear the voice of the picture in the soaring
Cry
Of the gulls, the rumble of the thunder.
Weary of your travels, always return
To hide in our arms,
Keeping a firm foothold in the sand
With your eyes lifted to the dew and the breaking
Of the dawn.