On the beach, we push ourselves
through the wind towards the light
There is no tunnel or holy gate

To catch our breath, we turn
around and take a rest, the wind goes
all over the world, and we are blown

along with the seagulls awhile and
together with the waves, we flow
out over the shiny sand awhile

The airspace is too large for us
almost still, we lean forward diagonally
but it is no longer a game

So we lie down and listen
to the rows of the surf
which is also breaking in our blood