I met a stranger on the shore
Outside the overgrown cemetery,
Searching for something lost
The stranger’s face was clouded
With strained, pained recollection,
Trying to voice a silent echo of the past
This blaring silence resounds in me
A memory of that shore of long ago,
Which was once full of life, returns in force
Your image was clear in my mind
Like the once clear water of yore,
But is now clouded by the stranger
So fleeting is your remembrance,
A beach washed by the ebbing tide
And stripped of its soft white sand.
Only as you age and grow wise in time
Do you come to those distant, foreign shores
Where message bottles wash upon the sand.
I strove to impress a splendid epithet
To carve my grave in your cemetery
Of long-gone childhood and adolescence.
I was inspired to write a brilliant letter
To fit in my bottle for you to find
So that you might seek me out.
Shall I be as a shell upon the strand,
An admirably pretty, precious husk
To decorate that lacking tombstone?
Might I be a simple stone buried in the sand,
A detestable pebble uncovered only by force
To find a dream you thought forgotten?
I can no longer touch your soul like in the past.
My power to fix myself in your graveyard
Is but a shadow, a weak silhouette of a lost star.
I see you now, on this shore that we once shared
In our childhood and seasons of our youth,
But you are no longer who you were, nor am I.
Your name for my image is no longer mine,
I am unborn until acknowledged by you,
Forever confined to a womb of oblivion.