the wind. the whipping of branch and feathered leaves has died.  time passes with no sand to mark passage.  as my heart bleeds tears, only distant sound flashing, sun on frond, morning marks my heartbeat.  the angel he lifted me as I walked, trodding tracks, foot to wood, step stretch, step, pausing below the train bridge.  Echoes of music on wind, distortions of talk, freely laughing, no words taken to heart, memories of anger dulled, a swig for fist encircles barley cold and frothy.  utterance from deep, guttural, yell of frustration, Ra king claws on the bars of my heart.  the cycle known.  a moment of stillness to contemplate steps taken and to sigh at the setting sun.  tracks tracks tracks.  trod by foot the way to hearth and home.  marveling at the sound of sun baked and cracked soil underfoot, to hit pavement.  the road or the mountain.  time it travels, a passage of mind.  my heart strings they thrum opening what I thought would bleed for eternity.  waves on the sand, is all just froth?  to see the horizon.  sun extinguishes in the sea.  the glowing orb, she guides as mother in night, the blanket of stars reflect her love in patterns to guide the Nomads.  always the tide, always the sea, the skull may ride high but nigh nigh nigh, the trident to Zeus eye.  Olympus stands, still.  Pegasus awaits Poseidon's blow of shell, to call to call, to arm the longbow to fly....we fathom the sky.