There's a place by the seashore
Covered in rocks, and seaweed, and droppings from black-tipped gulls.
At the top, I pretend there's a door.
It leads to a world of white nothings,
Where the sea and the sky meet in bright darkness,
and the stars don't shine.
When I climb to the tip of the rocks,
I look out at this world, of the sea and the sky,
And I wish I could cross that line.
I wish I could reach out my hand
And gather the soft darkness of the star-weary sky into my fingers.
I wish I could reach through the door and take a piece of that dim light back to my land,
So I could have it evermore.
I like to lie there, and think of the waves that wash upside-out in this world of mine.
And when the sun falls and the day runs away,
I go back, and with this brief view of a world that is more, I am fine.
I think it's the knowing that does it, that makes in all right in the end.