A year had passed beyond my door,
While I remained where days stood still;
New towers lined the distant shore,
And time moved on against my will.
Then morning drew me from my room;
The autumn air was cold and clear.
The sun broke through the salted gloom—
The world had changed within a year.
“Come walk the shore,” the water cried.
“Come taste the wind; reclaim the skies.”
But every gift beneath the tide
Will claim its price before sunrise.
I walked through aisles both known and strange,
Where common things appeared anew;
Each shelf bore witness to the change,
As weary legs kept pushing through.
And every step increased the pain;
My body begged to rest again.
One faithful lantern walked beside
And matched its quiet flame to mine;
It did not turn against the tide
Or urge me past the warning line.
A little warmth, a little bread,
The spoon betrayed how hard I shook;
No need to name the words unsaid—
My friend could read them in one look.
“Come walk the shore,” the water cried.
“Come taste the wind; reclaim the skies.”
But every gift beneath the tide
Will claim its price before sunrise.
I knew the cost before I came,
Yet chose the world beyond my door;
The pain returned and spoke my name,
But I had touched the sun once more.
“Come walk the shore,” the water calls.
“You knew the price,” it whispers low.
Beyond my door, the evening falls—
Yet still, I bear the sunlight’s glow.
~Ambrose Fider