The Third Mile Of The Third Day

He walks alone in silence on the deserted moonlit shore-

retracing the footsteps that he left when he was here long before.

The giant waves rise in tempest singing out their angry cry.

The man stops- he turns to face the angry sea and simply mutters why?

The sea then falls into an intense hush.

A scattering of visions upon the man now rush.

He remembers in déjà vu why he once walked this way.

He knows that the steps he now retraces end on the third mile of the third day.

He looks back sadly from whence he just came,

He sees not the past, but tomorrow hidden in the veil of a misty rain.

He knows now the reasons of the questions from behind blue eyes.

As the waves rise once more swallowing the man’s footsteps he left behind.

His feet are now bloody and torn from the broken shells of the near past.

He reaches out, limbs on fire for the last step in the sand- on the third mile of the third day at last.

Then…he is gone like a memory in the waves.

J. Allen Wilson © 5/22/2011