Under the Harvest Moon

Sitting by the beach under the presence of a harvest moon,
The stars caught in a thin net of clouds.
I listen to the sweet song of the waves—a prayer, a chant.
I watch the water foam as it kisses the shore—a brilliant flash of white
And, quickly as it appears it is no more,
Replaced a split second later by a new generation of waves.
So must our lives seem to the gods: brief and easily replaceable.
But for that one brief second we explode and share in the majesty of existence
As real as the stars and the moon.