Tide Lines

The waves retreat in their ancient rhythm, leaving signatures on sand— not footprints, but the edges of where they reached and let go.

Each line a map of arrival and departure, layered and overlapping, a record written in shell and the smallest stones.

What remains is not the water itself, but its memory traced in geometry, the tide marks telling us this shore was here, was touched, was transformed by something vast and indifferent.

We walk these lines as though reading a text, tracing patterns that will vanish with the next tide, understanding finally that impermanence itself is the message.