So much for the winds of change. The morning breaks
Like the waves on an unforgiving shore,
Or the back of a man bearing a weight.
Where the dawn should be is the dawn,
Where the moon was is now the sun,
As it has been.

It is still quite light on the ears,
The rustling of water on sand. In the light,
Faint as it may be, eternity stretches
To infinity in the far-off distance.
Blue horizon yawns to the front,
Where the breeze still beats at the bay,
And to my left and my right both
A yellow boundlessness of sand stretches.

What is behind me is meaningless.
I cannot turn back.
Not even to look,
These eyes should not be seeking.
There is a profound, palpable-
Hundreds more at least on the shore,
But the wind blows for me alone.
The sun shines for me alone.
The waves lap at my feet, my feet alone.

A frond of seaweed hanging on a rock,
Flapping in the liquid breeze.
Suddenly, a barnacle does not move.

Now, I am aground. Yet
Where do I belong? In the current or the bay?
Then there is laughter, a beach ball,
The shore looks a frightening tranquil,
Savouring a storm it does not deserve.
Push, heave out to sea, or weigh anchor?

So much for the sea of infinity. There is not
A drop for me to drink of it,
Or a bark for me to sail across.
Where it should be neverending, I see the horizon.
Where it should be quiet, I hear the waves.