To the shore

Is it the tides that searched the seashore?

Or the roots stitched the soil

Like a hidden embroidery.

Or the flowers that fish around the sun.

Like a slow-motion salute of a lazy boy.

Or the fresh air caressing the sprouting leaves,

Or the gentle breeze that fiddled her hair along,

Or the thick forest banyan trees,

Or the stones carved on the top of green mountains,

Or the water the sprinkling from the carved stones.

Everything shines into my heavenly desire.

Tides of desire never ends.