This liminal space between shore and sea, home to myriads,
Where life is measured twice a day, with the dance of the moon.
This space, this littoral landscape of edge and change
which percolates the broth of all beings, the place of birth.
The place of death that knells the bell of endings
should the tide turn and grasp the feet of those who do not know
The timescapes that govern the hiss and sway of this rushing water.
A soup of nutrients readily given to those myriads
who nourish their souls on fat invertebrates.
A place of solace for the soothe seeker,
A breath of fresh sea air, that settles the spirit.
Wanderland for the weary, a crosser of souls.