shells

there were some shells down by the sea
but they all looked the same to me
my feet were wet, my skin was burned
the sun had set, the whitecaps churned

then at my feet was one unique
and modest shell that seemed to speak
into my soul, into my ear
in one small voice that i could hear

i am like you, it said to me
i spend all day down by the sea
and i look up, while you look down
we both see sameness all around

but don't be sad with empty hands,
or pockets full of dripping sands,
for in the search it matters not
just what you find: it's how it's sought