Love’s Loss
The smoldering grains of false comfort
Drive my desire toward the cool, inviting swells.
If love is the enemy, can time be the savior?
The warning was clear:
None can visit without the clinging flame of the hot sand.
It is hard, too hard to bear the heated passion of the sunburned surface.
Scorched skin longs for a reprieve.
Articles of Ancient Grace show no mercy as they invade
All aspects of body and mind.
The waves of time fall rythmically upon the sand.
Each moment cools the flame and brings relief.
The shape of the water is everchanging.
New discoveries lurk behind each new peak.
Catharsis and regeneration await.
Sprint across the torched surface.
Dive deep into the cleansing water.
Nothing to burn
Nothing to cling
Nothing to keep
Nothing to…
Hold. The beach provided firm footing with only the slightest of compromise.
The ocean offers only violent churning
My panicked toes scrape the bottom sand.
The coffin of Annabell Lee is now nestled under my nail.
Equilibrium overcomes panic, but doubt resides in the trough:
Can love be quenched by time?
To live moment by moment has no equal.
Each simultaneous wave passes one by one until they are finished.
The water is still. Time is still.
Weightless, free, intangible.
Facing the sun, what is to come will never be known.
It has always been known.