And so the journey led them onward,
over crag and dale,
for horizons plush with life did beckon them,
attest their new beginnings
in truth and being true to self.
Ten days they traversed terrain,
through rain and wind and calmer plights,
each night they prayed for journey’s end,
their weary bones did ache at night,
by firelight they slept.
Then by midday’s high and hot resound,
arrive did they at an ocean,
waves and crashing seas of foaming grace,
yet peril for its broken face,
its surging movement sound.
Fear was all they felt,
for it was so large, so broad and endless,
yet the sands upon its entry felt calm and soothing,
none too close to that fury,
so they sat to ponder its perception.
Then upon the waves they saw white horses,
riding waves like boats a sail,
and one did reach the shore,
prevail upon the sand,
and greet them by a low gravelled voice.
What brings you to this shore,
this purgatory between still and violent fury,
and what form are you, a man, a woman,
here upon the tides of time’s relent,
where no-one dare choose between.
Good sir, we are upon a path,
first of forgiveness, of denial dismissed,
and then to where life does live in coloured array,
thus here upon the shore we land,
seeking a home for souls as we.
Are you in or are you out girl,
you cannot sit upon this shore,
choose life and fury,
or stillness in death, the sleep of endless time,
no in between is allowed.
Yet we are here, sir,
sitting upon this shore, talking to you,
a crested white being as you are,
who then chose to join us here upon the in between,
where you say we cannot be.
The horse scoffed yet could answer not,
and stamped up and down in frustration,
white hooves dug in sand, deeper and deeper;
come with me into the waves
or return from whence you came.
In the sea we shall drown,
return and we will live a colourless life,
in dust and stone,
truth is ours but harsh the ending,
no place for we, forgiveness marks us to see.
You are beyond my mind,
I cannot make you true to my belief,
so be where you will,
and not confound me more,
my head aches so.
With that the horse returned to sea,
drifted till found at crest in full white sail,
and none too clear as to what future would bare,
the two stood up and looked both ways,
this venture, this journey before them, still.
Tony DeLorger © 2016
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