Compass Free

Beyond this moment,

the present flows against life’s shoreline.

Beneath the sun’s swelter,

crouched on calloused paths,

 words hover over paper’s anxious direction,

 pen needles the worn language, seen through cataract’s veil.

Linguistic currents,

like layered tongues,

 savor word upon word,

 suddenly lurching across the page,

thirsting for shade,

even as a relentless sun-like heat scorches blistered lips

 burning one’s final utterance.

Final decay finds remedy in yesterday’s blood and heroes.

as a hesitant pause stretches,

allowing sweat’s cooling release

where ancestral sand and salt soothe wounds.

 Embracing the quest’s end,

circuitous relay takes a final rest,

 awaiting tide’s natural carrion.

Soon adrift,

 time’s flaming arrow arcs its tribute,

 inviting pen,

 paper,

heart,

 and mind

 to burn as one into the next journey…

Compass free.