Ending

Ending ... and alone again ... hardly the end

 

Shell

Nothing, nothing at all
  is born,

dies, the shell says again

  and again,

from the depth of hollowness.

  Its body

swept off by tide - so what?

  It sleeps

in sand, drying in sunlight,

  bathing

in moonlight.  Nothing to do

  with sea

or anything else.  Over

  and over

it vanishes with the wave.

Shinkichi Takahashi

(1901-1987)