Humble Grandeur of Starting Over

Water comes to your feet then leaves.
You are standing at the sea.
The moon is a vicious circumference
Of dreams, an intruder on the gray
Of the sea. I pick up sand and put it
Into my pockets, hurtle my shoes. A
Squadron of clouds gathers my biography
And runs away with it, leaving me the rolling
And humble grandeur of starting over.

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