It is Born

Here I came to the very edge
where nothing at all needs saying,
everything is absorbed through water and the sea,
and the moon swam back,
its rays all silvered,
and time and again the darkness would be broken
by the crash of a wave,
and every day on the balcony of the sea
wings open, fire is born,
and everything is blue again like morning…

Let us look for secret things
somewhere in the world,
on the blue shore of silence
or where the storm has passed,
rampaging like a train.
There the faint signs are left,
coins of time and water,
debris, celestial ash
and the irreplaceable rapture
of sharing in the labour
of solitude and the sand.

Poem by Pablo Neruda