The sky knows why, the waves know where.
Listen, they commune in whispers
quietly hushed since time began.
But the language of muffled murmurs escapes me.
If per chance you catch a word
confide in me
For I have become dull of hearing.

None contains the whole,
not one, not one.
Fragment of rock.
Grain on grain.
Stone on stone turning on the shoreline.
Each have their own place,
in the complete and infinite plan.

Nancy Rosie 1993