Regeneration

Every single human generation,
a single wave
in the past, present and future sea of humanity,
rolls onto an end onto end onto
a silent shore of ever.

Some crest high with fervent foam crying up to the sky,
others low, mute unwavering.
All undulate in dark, unfathomable rhythm,
all emerge from depth unknown and
roll onto an end onto end onto
a nowhere somewhere.

From where is the absolute dawn,
to where is the absolute dusk,
is muse for my I
in this round, recurrent storm.

And though my I may be an infinitesimal drop
in this vast wave of this vaster sea,
it is a fragile eye that soars
above and below
to see the mystery
abiding deep within and without
our teared,
rolling and yearning we.