The Blink

Aristotle stood with outstretched arms and wept

only the ocean breakers cascading

against the frozen remains of jagged volcanic stone

could cry out as loudly

he stood high above the roar on a shelf of rock

jutting out above the rage

like a tongue of relentless defiance

against the elements that reached up to drown

and then erode even this outcrop of resistance

below, washing forward and back with the tide

were the crumbled remains of nature's battle lost

where he stood, all was safe--for the time being

to his right and left stood metal stands holding reflector boards

the sun was about to set

casting crossed swords of golden light

across his naked body

it was as he wished it

a final exposure for a being now covered

with the salty mist of nature's preservative

and nature's destroyer

before him on titanium legs

the shutter of his digital camera continued opening and closing

to its pre-set pattern

capturing forever the last chapter of a life he had chosen to leave behind

his face was that of a young man turned old and frail

from the experiences that had driven him to this spot

this moment in time

this completion

he opened his eyes and peered about him

as tears merged with nature's cleansing

photos of a less than proud past rolled before him

Images he thought

of truth and imagination

are out there for me

waiting for my camera

my easel

waiting to be captured

to be layered by my paintbrush

to be consumed

retched

and reborn by my eyes

my voice

he arched his back to the sky

perhaps imploring the infinite to

speak to him

comfort him

relieve him of the past

no such message came

the only shroud of comfort came

by way of cooling shadows

from the wings of a raven

soaring in frozen animation

above the breaker's updraft

he opened his eyes

the anguish in his face relaxed

the raven blinked

it was time