Waiting for the Tide

When it recedes, everything is revealed
The coldness of the wet stones
And the mouths of the stranded shells
If touched, they close at once
The sound is distant
The sea has not yet returned

The tide is simply there
It has no excuses, nor a face

It comes, it recedes
And comes again

The stones, the shells, the sand
They do not resist

Only people
Make up reasons

Late, early
Good, bad

But
When it fills, we enter the same water

That is all there is to it

Things decided in small ways
Collapse in small ways

Before something great
One can only be still

Therefore, I wait

Without trying to control
What cannot be controlled

Before what is coming
Without making unnecessary moves
I simply stand

When the tide comes
I, too, am filled
Along with the moon