Sunday, August 28, 2011

certain

The ocean is only the beaded water on your skin, the sand just the pressed insistence of your thighs. The air is a rollick , drowned in spray and thunder. The day the glaze of greedy light upon your flesh. All these blessed definition awaken with you. All these flames and markers strewn without.

It is like the lie of constellations, irresistible once it is engaged. It is like that feeling of waking to the sun upon your face. The music that enchants and the day as it breaks. It is the collapse of perception that means the vision will persist. The line once crossed that erases the very meaning of retreat. This witness seems to begin the world, these reflections of your path.

I do not pretend to conceive the possibilities. I do not mistake all this wish and prejudice for the world. This way is adrift upon the open seas. Lost or fated, I cross off road and rail. This way is all I know. The hour slows and these longings wander. You are all the direction there can be.

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