Our stories are born in sand
In fragments of clay
On scrolls in clay jars
Scratches on rocks
Alongside vanished oceans
Deep, deep inland.
We search for
We read these stories to find our place
On this earth.

But in the soft place
Between mysteries and answers
There is your story
Written in this scallop shell
Becoming stone by yielding
What it is to emptiness
Letting in the sand
That will settle
And take form
Not forever
But for this eternity
We hold right now.

It is a fragile shell.
And it is a rock
Somewhere between forever

And now.