an hour at the beach

Go past Bed, Bath, and Beyond, Target, Jack in the Box until you see the wide strip of sand, the beginning of infinity.
Be drawn over that sand like a magnet to the swell, the welcoming and approaching waves.
Surrender to the pull of the sea that simultaneously speaks and listens.
Skitter like the birds on their sticklegs along the water's edge.
Take to flight when the water threatens to anoint your feet.
See if you can fathom the bright warmth of the sun; the contrast of the ocean's breezy chill.
Squint at the sheer glass of a wave's wall as it passes; disappears in an instant.
Ask how it changes into approaching spray just like that.
Make peace with yourself. Your shortcomings, your lack of love, the tears you hate to release.
Know that if anywhere, this is the place to let go, to be held by the damp, dense sand, to let your imagination soar like a gull and dive into the chilly roughness of the water.
You've come with your sunscreen, your bag of belongings, but it is too much.
You need to simply be here, full within yourself, present with all you feel.
Then set your face towards that world to go back to.
Know you can go back not being finished, not being complete, but as one in the process of completing.