my age is measured
in their rise and fall.
But old as I am
there was a time before even I existed.
In that time,
in that world of cracked raw rock,
there was no water
and no life,
for life could not begin without me.
For a time that seemed forever
all remained dry.
But when the rains began, they fell
for a time that seemed forever,
and in their falling
was my beginning.
O Mare Creatrix!
Beloved daughter of my heart’s mysteries
whom I have enfolded in my depths forever,
this pain that you bear is a passing thing;
the sign of a soul overwhelmed by wonder.
Soon you will understand everything.
You will number without effort
the times that my waves rise and fall
in a thousand years.
You will describe perfectly
the traceries of my changing currents,
both as they are now
and as they will become
in an undreamed future.
Part of you has always longed for this.
Part of you has always known
all that you are about to learn:
a memory recovered in the silence
between two waves,
in the silence
between two lives.