There was an oyster shell once, one that was hard to crack
Every strike to open it with the chisel I used
created this vibration.
This vibe, it was small and low, but it carried
like the long waves coasting to shore from the outer break
in the calm days of summer.
And the crest of the wave
carried high enough that I was able to ride for a while
and then go out looking for another one.
There was something good inside that shell.
But my aim was poor, and I was playing around.
With misjudged strength, I cracked the shell itself,
And cut open my own hand.
Forever now it seems
that the good thing inside the shell
is sealed away.