Fascination After Death Symbols

Why do I return each time to this sand coast, where figures of manta rays are hand-carved deep into the rocks and brittle lobster claws form necklaces along the beach?

What is there to be sought in waves and coves and slipping cliffs, and miles of hard-packed sand as smooth as any highway?

Each night upon the point I see the sun disintegrate, a slowly spreading pain of yellow sky and inflamed sea; each day, when foreheads of the rocks cast shadows full across the beach, I stare upon white boulders buried in the cliff, like skulls imbedded in a catacomb. And when I walk from shore to surf, beneath the eyes of hooded cormorants, with every step I crush the skeletal remains of whole colonies of sea creatures.