Sunday, March 15, 2009

A Humble Statue

Cries of screeching birds
Over a lapping shore
Rocks glisten, smooth in black
Moss growing beneath my feet

Still Steady Unmoving
The mist flies over the rocks
Little airplanes screaming to war
Chaos, Brownian, in the desperate pleas
To die and kill
Or to survive and somehow, in some way
Return to normal?

The closer I move
The tougher it is
The waves block my vision
Spraying endless shrouds over my eyes

But I see

The vast plains of water
Constant in all directions
Mild approbations appearing as waves
Mobilis in mobili

Across the miles a ship rises
Sails bellowing against a wind
What does he shout that fisherman?
Hark, perhaps, or a dare!

It is a different harmony created here
Beautiful in a cacophony
The sounds make no sense together
Except to distract thought.

I wonder to myself
How would these places go
If I don't ever leave
If I come back everyday
If I stay in this body
Just like this
Unmoving Steady Still
By this shore
For ever in this mind
Right now.

What then?

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