Forms take shape every moment From the ocean of emptiness And fall on the shoreless
shore Waves break in an illusion of death.
My weary eyes will fall upon a shimmering expanse of shoreless
, borderless sea, and my dark, black soul will take on the clean, clear color of the blue it was when I was a spring.
"The realm of fairy-story is wide and deep and high and filled with many things: all manner of beasts and birds are found there; shoreless
seas and stars uncounted; beauty that is an enchantment, and an ever-present peril; both joy and sorrow as sharp as swords.
I could see the red waves tossing in that shoreless
lake of fire, I could see the black myriads of the damned rise out of them and struggle and sink and rise again; and I knew that Joan was seeing what I saw, while she paused musing; and I believed that she must yield now, and in truth I hoped she would, for these men were able to make the threat good and deliver her over to eternal suffering, and I knew that it was in their natures to do it.
And what I saw as an infinite shoreless
sea of light; a sea that was consciousness.
When we have read his poem, as a poem, rather than as a collection of episodes, we perceive that he who wrote haeled under heofenum may have meant in dictionary terms "heroes under heaven", or "mighty men upon earth", but he and his hearers were thinking of the eormengrund, the great earth, ringed with garsecg, the shoreless
sea, beneath the sky's inaccessible roof; whereon, as in a little circle of light about their halls, men with courage as their stay went forward to that battle with the hostile world and the offspring of the dark which ends for all, even the kings and champions, in defeat.
God does not appear, and flow out, only from narrow chinks and round bored wells here and there in favored races and places, but He flows in grand undivided currents, shoreless
and boundless over creeds and forms and all kinds of civilizations and peoples and beasts, saturating all and fountanizing all.
"The Water under the Bridge: Tzveta Sofronieva's Der Alte Mann, das Meer, die Frau." In Shoreless
Bridges: South East European Writing in Diaspora.
In this first poem, the waters are "sweet," and the river is "shoreless
": Lord, we are rivers running to Thy sea, Our waves and ripples all derived from Thee: A nothing we should have, a nothing be, Except for Thee.
It was the image of a bubble pricked by a needle, Prof Rathore, who had authored "The Shore to Shoreless