Crying Out For…
by Odin Roark

It is only an instant in time and space
those footsteps floating above the sand
beneath the small eclipse,
tiny grains of past memories
patiently wait as the shadows search for their grounding.

For some, the footing is never found.
For others, once planted, shadows are forever removed.
For most , careless stumbling is but a habit,
and the passage of shadow, large and small,
continues its everyday migration across and into the erosion of time.

Time that knows
Time that waits
Time crying out for...