Friday, September 13, 2013

No Mark is Permanent: A Wise Man Runs

Alone on the beach
Trudging through sand
Particles from grander pasts
Cling to your bare feet
Their weight upon your limbs
Slows down your pace
The ocean nears its mouth
Waiting for you, always
For the sand to halt you enough
Then comes the rain
Encouraging the waves' wrath
To swallow you
As your pace lessens, slacks
You are heavy now
All your baggage bends your knee
You flail to keep moving
When the current drags you deep asea
Seagulls cackle and swarm
The last dancing crest covers your head
Waves batter the shore
Removing the  print of your journey
The sand quickly forgets you
As the seagulls fly out for cover
Leaving behind a desolate, empty beach
Another evening, Another sunset

A traveler now comes at dusk
The wind whispers lies of the future
Your essence joins its chant
Now the sand wakes its slumber
Another captive approached
This one, He's more nimble
Outstepping the heaviness of sand
And though the wind whips
His knees rise to meet the darkening sky
His body is fluid motion
Shaking one thousand years from his feet
The moon spotlights his race
His desire, His drive
The sky opens its girth with violent force
And still, the traveler streaks.
His clothes sodden, his eyes blind
He runs through rain drops
Sand, waves, and wind
Cannot catch the fleetness of his soul
A dune appears in the distance
Over its girth he sails into infinite blackness
A solemn beach lies forgotten
Some seagulls return, cackling, searching
While the moon illuminates emptiness
Waiting for the Sun again

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