When the shore was the edge

When the shore was the edge,
I wasn’t maddened by advertising sexuality to 6 year olds
I wasn’t surrounded by ways to sell myself.
I wasn’t driven by consumption.
Band-aids weren’t all I saw.

But now I stop to see that these shores I’ve never seen.
The coast keeps changing, sands keep shifting.
New was old. Which is worse?

In all of this how do I live?
Where is your face in the scenes of this shifting window?
How do I live?
Again I’m ship wrecked by indecision.