Gray, white, silver,
yellow, red,
black and brown
goes the painting of the world—
like the waves that forever come
to embrace the patterns of the shore.
From where do the souls come
and to where do they travel,
as light as they can or appear to be,
yet sometimes heavy and not carefree,
in the shadows of passing moons
and the sun sparkling through our eyes,
and faces and voices in the light,
and those unseen and not yet told,
as purpose hums along songlines of borrowed time,
wiring wisdom and lore from shore to shore.