A Secret Upon the Boardwalk

I tell you a Secret my songbird

Perhaps, the only secret there is

and from whence,

All else is come into being-of-Perfection

The steady realization that

This instant, frozen between our finger tips –

beaconed by light

from waves tossed and grains of sand;

This endless instant alone held suspended,

and, everyone which follows, at ‘its’ time

Is, the holder of the perfect-Eternity

we seek, yet most often break

and 'think' to see beyond.