Finite Shore

We walk along this shore
knowing why.

Out there is the sea
as vast and obliging
as the capacity of our hearts
to belong together;
its phosphorescent depth
harboring
helical, elliptical mysteries
that two hearts
as in tune as ours
would have no trouble
conversing with;
its waves immemorial
in perpetual communion
with the florid colorations
of the sunset at the horizon
that is as self-evident
as the fecund potential
that we could love each other;

the cornucopia of possibilities
beckons to us
to take the plunge
to go as deep as we can
and leave our inhibitions
on the surface
enter the hydrostatic pleasures
of the soul-piercing blue
so its Pacific breath
can calm our minds
frayed by cycles of thought
and its Atlantic passions
can wake our carnality
too toned by urban living

and we both know
how to swim

but we stay here
along the sandy shore
turning dead seashells
and faded coral
in our fingers,
the soles of our feet
brushing the foam
of the safest,
most timid ripples

we do not ask for proof
of the infinite
we do not need it
the ocean is there
for us to partake of

just a step away
just a kiss away
just three words away

but we do not choose it
because
you belong to someone else
and we both know it.