Secret Beach Garden and Cave

the full spectrum of colour
pours through my eyes, into my soul
the oasis sparkles in the bright midday sun -
whilst time, past and present, rips past me

treading through this secret beach garden

my eyes delighting at every fine detail

troves of lava stones and shells 
cacti carefully ringed with pebbles 

rusted machine parts set as art

a garden to mirror my father's own

just beyond the secret beach garden hides

the cave-become-shrine: the trinkets
baubles, souvenirs, ornaments and offerings -
alms left behind by similar such pilgrims:  
the people, their names, such bright lives

as we too leave our own tributes 

i crash into my own vision here
it is of the present, and i see myself 

peering past the garden, past the cave
past the beach and into the middle of the night

i turn and see myself -
a reflection? i snap

it's the heat 

those colours disappear
the vision refuses to come close to me -
evening
the beach is close by
where am i really? 

is this place real?

~-~-~-~-~

later, on the way home

we stop and swim, naked -

then cooling down, refreshed

drying out, hydrated yet
still one thought fights every other:

a secret beach garden of visions