The landscape barren, endless,
Raging surfs pounding sea,
Not a soul to bless
No writings in the sand, I see,
Patterns, curling underfoot, caress,
Lonesome wandering thoughts run free,
Infiltrate my senses deep,
Repeat, repeat, repeat,
Harmonics playing in my ear,
Rhythms fill my chest,
All eternity is here,
This breathing it is blessed,
New suns horizons light,
New patterns still do mend,
Bringing days and night,
To spaces furthest end,
Footprints deep is all l leave,
A track that seems repeating,
The sea and mind will soon retrieve,
While time stands still, yet fleeting,
Déjà vu it seems, do I remember?
Thoughts fill empty spaces vast,
Was it not just last September,
Or much, much further in the past,
Bones bleached white, just hidden,
Neath sand, and times of yore,
That storm and tides had smitten
When breath, and soul, it had before,
An hourglass its boney hands,
Grasp tightly, still its sands,
I wondered when he walked this shore,
Like me, these barren lands.©04/12/2009
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Blessings and Love - Micke
This breathing it is blessed
Sounds like a wondrous moment in time, indeed.
Georg
AM
You search well within to bring us this lovely reflection.
John