And it was our movement
That made the color—
That gave the light some place to cling,
Some form to cast in fraction
As through the waves it dove,
And leave behind some ghostly trace
Of where our breath escaped
Before it broke those chilled blue depths
And all returned to slumber.

A million throes upon the sand
And voices that had whispered
To each and every merging wave
Before their time was spent—
Believing those eternal beats
Would keep their secrets safe,
In memory unpredictable
Of ceaseless reaching fates

But deep beneath those shadow shapes,
The drops that caught the light
And cast it into fleeting forms
That matched our moving flight,
There were not souls to hear our words
Nor lovers to remember
The history we entrusted there
And soon forgot ourselves

So none remembered what had passed
Or that there ever were
Lashes closed beneath the moon
That prayed for something more—
That cast out to the space of night
As though there were in waiting
Some purpose that was more than life,
Someone out there to meet,
Some hope yet left to gaze up to
Or seek within the hush.