View from the third height

After a time away from a personal life,
watching sand vs. sea with strangers
and expectations; I come back to
stacking blocks as protection against
tides of change and swells of promise
and realization, each waxing or waning
according to a clock I craft by
carving each cog and placing them in motion,
each vibrating to a separate rhythm
that corresponds to a previous phase
of my existance as property of this planet.

Again and again it is security
and not excitement we seek,
as I was told once, not seeing
the ocean in front of me;
and every stroke taking me
further and further from the shore
where everything I was has been
left folded neatly, stacked, waiting
for my return as something larger and
different, lacking the void
that propells us forward.