Mud Flats

Once, upon a low tide,
When the mud flats revealed their murky, sinky depths 
Something glistened in all the brown.
The non-descript landscape that you don’t want to get on your shoes had something in it.
It stinks, and it sinks
As it sucks down and covers up whatever falls into the sea.
The salty tears of God, once pulled back by magnetic moon forces,

reveal a hidden treasure.
Of course, I gingerly explored to see what this minor delight might be - looking insignificant and abandoned it may need a home.
Fingertips touch odd shapes and grasp hold of a small smooth round pot full of funny shapes.

Something with spikes like a star.

We wash it clean.
White shells, a pearlised clam, an old worn coin weathered by the sea, and a cheap metal brooch with pink glass stones.

Someone’s trinkets gone overboard.

Nothing valuable to an auctioneer, but treasured nonetheless. 
I sit it on my altar so that it has a home,

finally found,

finally back in a place where it is cherished.

A little collection of oddments with meaning to someone once that the sea claimed, the mud held captive,

and curiosity set free.

Once, upon a low tide, 
When the salty tears of my pain receded,
It revealed a long stretching,

stinking,

sucking brown landscape of all consuming fear.
And I noticed 
Small glistening chunks of the person I once was,
Of who I was meant to be,
Of seemingly small treasures that contained infinite possibilities 
That had fallen overboard
When storms had capsized me. 
I pick them up and hold them,

examine their glinting surfaces as they sparkle

in the long forgotten sunlight

with a tantalising tale of what could be

and place them back inside me. 
Pieces of love,

chunks of hope,

abandoned dreams,

shards of joy all coming back together to reform the half of me I lost. 
Becoming whole again,

I place myself at the altar

and pray that I never forget what it feels like to find such treasures,

and put them where they will be cherished at the centre of my heart. 

Once, upon the tides of time,
A mighty blow shattered the mirror of existence. 
The sudden realisation of what it could not be,

in the face of all that it is 
imploded it from within.
An incalculable sum of pieces scattered in the cloying,

clawing suction of a void of banality. 
A fracture in time and space shattering down eons and spirals of time

back to the point of origin. 
Then, the waters of life receded to reveal tiny pieces

seeking and searching the other pieces,

slowly rebuilding universes and galaxies, 
pulling itself back together,
a double helix interlocking,
the strands of life reconciling 
the dichotomy that destroyed it. 
Fingers of God pulling pieces of itself from the mud,
Washing away doubt and fear to reveal the potential.

Placing itself on the altar formed over billenia out of the sheer fabric of love for life: Earth,
to give itself the space and autonomy to live out that possibility. 

Those precious pieces are us.

What can we be? 
Held and cherished we can explore in safety;

cushioned by infinity,

energy eternal,

we can explore this concept forever
Until we finally allow ourselves to reflect the glory of all that is,

and shatter in an explosion of ecstasy that scatters universes into the far corners of nothingness.
Filling silence with starlight,
Sending the notes of a melody of magnificence into a cacophony of chaos. 
I catch that sweet sound on a breeze.
I see it when the birds swoop and dive in a murmur as they answer in salute, 
And I honour it when I heal the rift within me.