The last

At the last dune – lofty above silt and sea - the view is the end
and a beginning, where sand, wind and water bind the roots
of marramgrass in the face of earth, as quivering eyelashes.
There I stand,  while the salt washes my feet. The beach is mine.

I´m not alone. In the lost distance a boat draws near. Or does it go?
The sky is clear, only the wind plays with the plumes of a plane.
Far away, the mainland skeleton evaporates in trembling light.
It ´s not my goal, but you can easily get there when the tide is low.

Over my shoulder the dunes tumble down the edge of a continent.
Behind that rugged ridge the dyke holds the wasteland, where birds
scream for life and blind rabbits are merely prey. Humanity bears
its days in the solitude of weary hearts.  Silence is my best friend. 

To be waiting, overlooking everything with searching eyes, it makes
no sense to talk. Let silence solve the mystery of everlasting time.
Light fades away over the sea, wind falls over the merse. Two towers
shine in the twilighthours of a grey summer night. I`m not alone.