1-3-11

those wandering times were
a wayward sea-
with us adrift on its swift
currents-
is there an end beyond the
horizon?
we watched it day and night-
a giant sun bursting eagerly
over the starting line-
and falling back wearily beneath
it-
a secretive moon casting its
shadowy glaze before descending
quietly below the surface-
those wandering times were
a wayward sea-
with us adrift on its swift
currents-
drawing nearer and nearer
to that crimson horizon-
we seemed so close-
but it was never a matter of
distance-
a picture perfect afternoon-
spent absorbing sunlight
from within cold walls-
the sounds of life humming
outside those four corners
like an old tune-
a companion in your ear-
i speak to you
through written words-
you see me by what is read-
through alphabetical
expressions-
the contents of a heart
spilled through the tip of a
pen-
and stenciled onto a coarse
page-
always-
until my lips meet the crimson
horizon-
those wandering times
were a wayward sea-
with us adrift on its swift
currents-
there is no end beyond the
horizon-
and yet we will continue to
tread those waters*

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