Hole In The Hedgerow

Down here,

where the waves of the ocean smash against the rocks.

A place so turbulent and dynamic

The only constant is constant change.

The land becomes sea,

The sea eats away at the land.

An endless battle waged between the two.

It’s a transitional place.

Nothing ever stays still for long.

Neither land nor sea nor air.

It is none of those things.

Yet it is all of them.

A treacherous world between worlds.

Where the elements collide and grapple with each other for ownership.

The frontlines of an ancient war between the ocean and a continent.

Nothing permanent can exist here for long.

And yet.

There stands a tall tower shooting out of boulders and rocks.

Standing solid and strong.

An old lighthouse, its light long since gone out.

Here it assiduously perseveres.

It survives,

as a tangible thing, in a dangerously intangible world.

Its long-ago spinning light winking at ships in the night.

It asked for nothing in return but to be seen and noticed.

As the world around it ebbed and flowed and crumbled.

Its windows are shattered,

leaving behind sea glass washed up on shores miles away.

The waves have licked away its paint.

One day the lighthouse will crumble into the ocean.

The oceans waves will grind it down until it becomes sand.

One day a child may build a tower of sand ground from its rubble.

And when the tide comes it will wash it away.

Leaving behind a clean strip of sand in the morning.

Nothing here can last forever.