the far end (three small poems)

the sea,
the sand, the waves
return to the moon,
the stars, and the sun,
nights and days
in the infinite space,
volumes of stories
rewritten, washed away

at the beach

friends, families
spending time for
thousands of years

…

the sea roars
from end to end,
it consumes
look-alike
nights and days
year after year,
each wave,
a calendar

…

three-fourth water?
one-fourth land?
I went deep inside
to see where the
waters stand,
this could resurrect
the geographical belief
I thought of Galileo,
I saw a child who could
see an old woman as his 
wife, I thought of Ian
Stevenson, what’d happen
to the history of beliefs,
I bemused;
woke up in disbelief,
and, in a minute, went
back to settle down
on the bed of the sea