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Remnants

Poem and photo by Bernhard F. Kossmann

July 11, 2022

I feel the sharp edges under my bare feet.

Shells are cracking.

With every step the remnants of life are getting closer to become sand.

Soon one can only see its origin under a microscope.

Every wave helps to grind the shells further down.

I want to lie down to feel this on my body.

Feeling alive.

Every shell the remnant of a once living being.

A mollusk eating, breathing and holding on to the rock in the relentless surf.

Living on the edge between solid rock and fluid sea.

Living on the edge between the tides, washing waters and burning sun.

Some call it a primitive life form.

But they are the source of energy for so many other beings.

Humans came here to pick the big mussels from the rocks.

Having served their purpose their shells are left as remnants of life.

Every cracking sharp sensation a reminder of this miracle.

 

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