A Message Without Words (Port Alfred)

High up, beyond the waterline,
where fat "vygies" thrive in the radiant sun,
a gnarled driftwood kneels like the “Dagga-roker” by van Wouw,
before a smooth black pebble, with a thin white line circumscribed,
while a nearby a shell, half-buried beneath the sand,
carries the whisper of the sea in its spiraled hand.

And thus, my mind involuntarily drawn, to project mathematical equations,
and to cast meaning and purpose upon my surrounds;
with a thousand thoughts that rise and swirl,
about the shell, the sea, and the purple "vygie" flower,
and all other objects that my mind tried to ponder,
when sprang to mind, the Buddha’s “Wordless Sermon”.

There, beside the driftwood, shell, and stone, in fetal position curled,
I sated my lungs with the musty smell of sand and sea,
while the roar of breakers around me my thoughts unfurled,
to become another driftwood kneeling, in raptured awe of the cosmos' infinity.