Alone

So far, now near.
The distance grows shorter, the tide creeping upon the beach then
falling back.

You see, the waves emerge in the distance,
Armed waves, white foam of thunder, ready to smash, slam, swipe, swell, singe
And they come in waves, the squadrons;
As they get closer, you can see the soldiers
No faces, but they're there, advancing, flags held up high beyond sight.
Those were white.

The shore is silent, awaiting.
War,
They hit, they smash, slam, swipe, swell, singe,
Here as they did there, indifferent.
In war, there is no celebration of life.
Here, there is life, and it goes on,
Unlike war.

The battle moves with the moon, up and down.
Terrain is conquered, lost.
Castles and other temporary constructions are destroyed and
reduced to lumps, to be evened out and rebuilt
In circles.

When the moon is at its bright height and round
I stood awatch, the waves coming on and on.
Poor visibility? Darkness hid the illusion of distance
but what I needed to see was there.

Note here that this is a sight I met in childhood:
Evening, staring out towards the sea, waves coming forth
crawling onto land and spilling their lonely secrets upon surfaces and
unsuspecting beachgoers.
Alone, that's how I felt, because I couldn't see anything past the blanket of night.

Alone, the feeling.
The answer, alone.
You, look. In the word. Alone. Look. Pair the L and split.
Oh, it fits :)

The sight is here.
It is a feeling of sadness, of being small.

Tiny.
Tiny.

Everything is. The waves, the moon, the darkness, the light, the sand, the water, the wind, the unmentioned.
Yet we weave all these things together into our own blanket and we hide either under it or from it. We think we are insignificant, minuscule, wee (in more than one sense). We could just as well appear to be that. If I think I'm bigger than that, then I'm delusional. If I think I'm unworthy or pathetic, then I'm delusional, too. If I simply am, the world around me is too. I appreciate the sight because I have learned that while the waves crash ahead and everything is large and small, I am witness to it. It occurs, and I can see it, witness it in its presence. Its emptiness, its hollowness is not a feeling of lack. It is a feeling of completeness. Nothing, yet everything.