reaching down arm-deep into bright water
i gathered on white sand under waves
shells drifted up on beaches where i alone
inhabit a finite world of years and days
i reached my arm down a myriad years
to gather treasure from the yester-milliennial sea-floor
held in my fingers forms shaped on the day of creation
building their beauty in three dimensions
over which the world recedes away from us
and in the fourth that takes away ourselves