A Memory

I’ll meet you
in that cave, the one
you dreamed of — stone, 
cold, a memory of the sea. We
were born here, I’ll tell
you. Your eyes will climb
the walls, the
installation of time’s lapping
tongue. For a moment, 
we will worry,
but be reminded that beginnings
(or endings or both) are void
of light until that instant
we transcend; the ocean
depositing us–foam
on the shore.