Endlessly Bright

The glistening shore dances

through the dead of night,

endlessly re-acquainting

the garland of seashells.

They poke, pry, prick, and pierce.

The conch’s utter no words

and the clams have no pearls.

The stars, giant clouds of dust,

illuminate the once desolate night sky,

guiding the lost

through the open seas.

For billions more years—

the shores will still glisten,

but the stars will have shattered.

Spinning,

towards their endless demise.

And so,

when the shore stops dancing,

and the stars live forever,

the shells will go dull,

the night will grow endless,

and the lost will never be found.