Too Late

The tide goes out
It just slips away
Leaving the beach desolate.

The wet sand rippled
Like old yellow skin
The grey sky lowers.

Hope has gone with the sea
Life barely glimmers now
A broken razorshell.

There may be lights
They might sparkle yet
But they are too far out.

What is all this for
This damp dreary coast
This world lost in darkness?

How unutterably bare
How stripped and gaunt
This solitary creature.

I am the desolate beach
The distant crash of breaking waves
The mournful seagull call.

The tide has gone out
It just slipped away
And I’m too late.


About Jamie Nicol

Living in the forested hills of Catalonia, overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. Zen teacher, recovering philosopher, small-scale natural farmer. Writing just what comes.
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