I'm looking out to sea tonight like there's something to discover, something to find out. I want to send a VR drone out as far as it'll go. But I imagine eventually it'd just happen upon a new coast, with someone staring back out. There are no answers to be found here, only the insistent endless throbbing of this expanse at the shore, pushing enquiry to the nervous system. Precise neutrality and assurance; it has seen it all. A thousand men tried and a thousand men failed. There is no hope, no beautiful despair. It is overwhelming and it outlives your every moment. It grows and swells and we sleep. A thousand men try and a thousand men fail.
It is relentless. It's seagulls, like disciples, show an understanding; cruel confident perfunctory automatons. They understand simply and completely. It can be taken, and it can be taken back. You are not important, they are not important. It can't be consumed. They are complete within their actions. The eyes settled for the face, nothing else; they just do what they do. The mouth is calm. Suffering is just a thing. A thing in amongst other things. Not to be dwelled on.
The sea is the real part of the earth.
The shore is where truth meets the land.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem