Some other time, man or woman, traveler,
     later, when I am not alive,
          look here, look for me
               between stone and ocean,
                    in the light storming
                         through the foam.

Look here, look for me,
      for here I will return, without saying a thing,
           without voice, without mouth, pure,
                here I will return to be the churning
                     of the water, of
                          its unbroken heart,
                               here, I will be discovered and lost:
                                    here, I will, perhaps, be stone and silence.