Cleansed

A quick trip, just a weekend jaunt. Back to Fleet for a breather before being packed up into my summer box, to be shelved until the return. One morning full of mist and two more of sun. Almost perfect, almost. I'm now resigned to the fact that some things will never measure up, never be the same.
Anyway, the treasure...
The walk was perfect, as the beach was clean. Swept up and away, the shore ever changing. Gone were most landmarks so familiar in July and August. A very high tide had come in with force and gone out with all. Even the sculpted castles and crisp edges had vanished. Vanquished into the rolling blue, to be deposited elsewhere at another time. Only the strong survive they say, and that held true with the treasure...the trinkets and trash were gone. The path of seaweed and gateway were gone. The tide had come up and swept through the original structure. The foundation intact for it's good bones endured. Some tidbits here and there, secure in their place above ground, survived. Surprisingly, the cleansing didn't bother me. The trifle offerings of others, the trash and the ordinary really didn't have a place there among the special things. With no official entryway, it gave invitation to be viewed and enjoyed from many perspectives, just not the obvious. I took a look from the left instead. Another metaphor for my life.