6:50pm
the sand is cold, I could wear shoes, I know, but that is not the essence of the beach for me, the volleyball courts are empty, for some reason I think it bad karma to cross them, the lines defined that is, silly I guess, but we all have our idiosyncrasies, a stiff steady wind pushes in from the ocean, my journal’s bookmark flapping wildly about like some worn flag that has seen one thousand seasons and as many storms, so I walk toward the remains of the sunset, somewhere in the back of my mind this seems a warmer path, maybe it is just the exercise of walking in sand, feet sinking in, there are a few other travelers here, as I suppose there would be, or at least should be, there is the inner conflict of wanting to share such a place and yet commit it all for your own, both thoughts feel at home in my mind but I suppose I do not own this open secret, so here you are, welcome, the rush of the waves provides constant sound, I hear nothing of humanity at the moment, not a drop of the usual din seems to reach my ears, except the wind, not howling, not screaming, nor a gentle hand, somewhere in the limbo that lies between all those, a rising firm calm if you will, gulls glide silently above, a couple walks by with their young child, also silent, I can not accurately describe the golden shimmer of the leftover tide in the sand and fading sunlight, wave upon rolling wave, maybe this is the only timeless thing I may ever encounter or perceive, back there, just some hundred or so feet, the supposed real world, none of that has ever felt like this inside my bones, is this abject loneliness? I have always been an optimist, no, I am not lonely even if I am quite alone, I just feel something missing, perhaps…
I can feel the darkness of the rest of the beach creeping up my back behind me, I do not dare to look and become a pillar of sea salt, no, I look forward to the only hope I have, the only light left, even with a useless breath, might I, fight the inevitable –
with this, a moment, an experience, a performance on the oldest stage, might even Homer blush, for he knew, as do I, our temporal nature, among nature, while born of gods this realization, or born of science, much the same, these waves have seen many eyes before mine, and many more still when I am gone, for at least I was this once, graced with the best seats in the house.
Tag: oceans
Thoughts from the porch…
(that thing I do) …and the strange summer continues, the singular perfume of coppertone replaced with the stark drying reality of hand sanitizer, as of late the humidity and heat bear more of a resemblance to late summer, and these hazy hot days have strung together like an oppressive archipelago stretched across an ocean ring of fire’s back, all in the cast net of my immediate sight and sense seem worn down, the world knows that only needed effort be spent, anything above that red line will be savaged drowned in sweat and drained out with haste, like a sudden plug at the bottom of a lake pulled, like in a bathtub, downward down, spirals and gone, to the last drop, even sound can not bear the weight, there are a few, creatures here and there, wise asses, singing from within shadows fronting proud, but no brazen chasing from branch to branch, no courting, romance or anything other than rest and wait, the first ambassadors of summer, the fireflies have come, admire and rejoice in their strange shows, there is no Broadway you know, I wonder what I would do if I could flash a bio-luminescent part of my body, I would hope to have control when off it went, even the pages of my journal are moist after a few minutes out this evening, paper sweat, unfortunately this does not make my words more salient or have more depth, I wish I could hear the purrs of the clouds, for surely they are doing so, sun on their backs, casually rolling through the darkening azure path, rubbing the corners of their mouths on the horizon bent, nothing on their agenda tonight, except to simply be, stretched out for miles like mountains, motion barely perceptible like dreams sleeping in the deep oceans unseen, I see leaves moving, bobbing side to side, and yet I feel no breeze, just this stifling brick cocoon of moist heat, barely evaporating off me even as an hour or more passes, not so long now I will retire back to my man made shelter, with the control of the weather at my fingertips, and then might straighten right up like a parched flower placed in a vase of purest water, and bloom again – for at least some hours.
Shades of My Garden 