They come with the evening tide
Battered, worn, a little jagged.
The sea claims them again
In a frothy, powerful surge
As the sun rises.
But not this pebble,
Its surface still smooth
The inscription still legible.
Under eternity’s watchful gaze,
Under the auspice of time continuum,
Through seasons past and still to come
Below the canopy of new stars
About to be born;
The pebble survives and endures
In the same spot, everlasting,
A beacon of permanence.
On his daily rounds, the beachcomber
Walks past it, reassured;
Generations have stood before it, both old and new,
Ennobled by its mythical lustre.
Distant ships pick up its vibrations
As do the spinning satellites.
The simple inscription reads,
“From me 2 u”.
