Waves from somewhere beyond the glistening horizon,
now in their final moment of glory,
morph into huge translucent turquoise curls
and pummel ancient rusty Acadian ledges,
their backs splitting shards of the late afternoon sun
an instant before they bury their proud prows
into the Venus-fly-trap boulders that so welcome their arrival.
If these thunderous waterworks time their antics just right,
gargantuan towers of froth burst forth,
splaying the moist salty breezes
before slapping loudly on the rocks beneath
and scurrying back into the sea to do it again.
Overhead a seagull screeches hungry incantations while,
with the slightest tacking maneuver of its silvery body,
it artfully flips to the wind. And flips again.
Within a few fathoms of the craggy granite bulwarks,
a harp seal’s silken head flashes in the roiling waters
and thick-beaked eider ducks bob for breakfast.
Choosing not to work so hard, kelley green carpets of algae,
happily suction themselves to the rocky facades
and wait for whatever liquid feast washes over them.
The scene is one of incredible beauty,
beauty to behold--beauty to be held. Savored. Saved.
But if I, if no one, witnesses such splendors,
then what is this beauty’s purpose?
Why do these skies sail so blue?
For whom does this majestic spray fling itself so gustily?
To what end do these marine thespians perform
as if for Cirque du Soleil?
This is the rarest of beauty;
neither for entertainment nor consumption,
not for the ego’s gratification nor heart’s inspiration
not to be captured nor even coveted,
but simply to be beauty for beauty’s sake.
Could it possibly be so simple as this:
That we humans, like the seas and seagulls,
living rocks and waving waters,
are here simply to create beauty for beauty’s sake?
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