Panning

Somewhere on a rocky beach, I lay,
Half in and half out of a morning sea.
The waves push around me like my divine madness,
Calm today like the sky—pale, sweet, and soft.

My arms stretch out, cradling the rising sun,
Fingers closing around young, yellow rays.
My legs stretch out, submerged in the falling tide,
Grey and translucent, the thoughts restless in my brain.

A steady percussion seals this together,
Beating through my being, bearing on the shore.
A song from a memory past steals through my ears,
I understand inflections, if not words themselves.

A cold wind ripples and shivers over my skin.
Bitterly, I bite my sea salt lips,
Hands grasping at pebbles and sand—
A makeshift hourglass to pass the day with.

I’m panning for something not found by the sea,
But should you find me before time runs down,
Before the end of this fleeting music,
Before the higher tide begins, before the sun sets

Tell me what it all means, tell me the words to this song,
Tell me what I’m doing here, lying on this rocky beach,
Calm this madness of mine, sit by and watch the sky,
In nuances, in inflections—pale, sweet, and soft.

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~ by O'Brien on July 29, 2009.

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