Don't Go Swimming With 40 Dollars In Your Trunks

I've never skipped pebbles from the beach
Onto the waves into the sea
For I know that on that final dip
I'll have let more than a pebble slip
Into the timeless waters where
It seems that time is always there.
It never changes but always moves -
We can never find the things we lose.

The shifting sands feel warm with life
Beneath the sun but dead at night
Or when they're scattered and torn apart
As I dig for shells and natural art
And ignore the paintings my fingers make
Of their own accord - but they quickly fade.
By the time I can truly understand
What is lost I have only empty hands.

The waves, the ocean, the sea air
If I were told that they're not there
That I could step off from the sand
And plant my feet upon dry land
I'd head to the horizon and then no more
Then walk myself back to the shore,
And only stop to tie my shoes
Or pick up a pebble that someone threw.