Friday, December 16, 2011

on the edge

        Out of the asylum...

On a dream's beach,
I walk in the foaming surf.
The raven night hides the palms and the stars;
All I can hear are the waves' words
But I cannot interpret their worth.

I cannot understand
Why the sea casts out the sage and the shell;
Why has she rejected the kelp
Now dying upon the beach?
And I cannot understand
Why she steals the grains of the beach each day
To leave nothing here when eternity comes.
Why does she grip the vessels upon her waves-
Taking them down into her murky depths?

And the drift wood struggles to climb
The wind-blown, sloping beach.
Oh, it will tire; will it lose itself
To the tumultuous extent?
The sea heightens and the wind strengthens,
Sucking up sands and spewing them in my face--
Blinding me, hiding the calls of the circling birds of white.

But a cloak is laid to cover the dawn.
And once again,
I am returned to the Asylum...

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