Within the flow of tide
layers of water chase the moon
on a following sea
where the broken
reel toward oblivion,
medals of holiness
contrive to adorn war
and diesel motors churn
away from the silence,
her singular current bearing it all
with the grace of the timeless,
asking of who will let in her mystery
to avoid the refuge of answers
and hold space for the sacred
that alone may change you.