Imprints

The crashing of the waves
against the jagged rocks below
beats steadily on my ear
as I leave my dripping footprints
deep in the sand,
stepping, doubly hard,
so that the imprints are clear,
although I know
they will be washed away,
as soon as the next wave comes
crashing, sinking my feet
in swirling particles of white and gold.

I try anyway, doubly hard,
to leave a part of me
on this beach,
even as I know,
all trace will be eventually erased,
just as I finally
leave this world, sinking my feet
in swirling white clouds reflected on golden paths.