|picture source: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/375909900123143211/|
The beach is deserted, it’s a cold wet midweek morning.
The cliffs dissolve behind a silver cloak of lonely tears.
Seagulls drift on currents in a blue grey sky that’s falling
towards crashing waves that swell with the depths of our despair.
I don’t emit a presence, emptiness displaces conscious thought,
and the waves keep coming closer, with foaming arms, they reach for me,
for I am this landscape, the wild cold wind, the storm,
and I assail this shore with the singular purpose,
to erode my existence of the impermanent impact
of my footprints in the sand.