"A Walk Along A Mostly Silent Shore Beside An Endless Sea

“A Walk Along A Mostly Silent Shore Beside An Endless Sea”

 

‘Impressions Of An Alien Landscape’

 

 

 

03/06/13

 

 

 

To my ever-dearest friends, and always kind and steadfast readers,

 

 

 

Behind me, a length of misshapen footprints already made vague and indistinct in the wet and sinking sands that fill and empty, fill and empty with a soft and relentless tide; soon this record of my passing will be erased so that no one—save myself—will ever know that I was here.

 

 

Ahead—at an unmeasureable distance is an over-large, lambent, setting sun that dimly lights the grey green air.

 

The waves hardly make a sound; in the distance gulls and other raucous sea birds echo in the sky as they dart with no apparent plan. Theirs is a lonely sound, but then, you already knew that.

 

 

My cane, in the mire of gritty sands makes me unsteady, and I have torn my clothes…bleeding from a myriad of tiny cuts upon the sharp rocks, which glisten with a sleek blue/blackness in that fading light.

 

But, what is the purpose of this singular and sad journey? In feeling the gathering coolness into blackening sky, where only now, faint tiny stars give stark evidence of the coldness of night; my insubstantial coat ruffles as the night descends.

 

 

I am no stranger to this place where land and sea are seamlessly joined.  What is the meaning of this walking dream state?  And why must I stumble onward?

 

Too many opiates cloud the mind, and ready thought eludes my grasp.  Could this be a kind of death?  This lonely place where pain follows pain, and none are in even saddened measure relieved.

 

And yet, I feel compelled to walk on and on; I fear to hesitate.  Somehow, I know I dare not even stop an instant, for the winding gulls and sweeping sea birds fly ever just ahead. And with a great—though insincere—insistence mock me,

 

I have no compass.  No recourse but to pursue this jagged bank until I find that place where sun meets sea.  And there, find some respite, no, not respite, but a more permanent sense of peace.

 

Meanwhile, the sea offers no reassurance; who—then—will go with me?  Who will patiently guide me, and comfort me?  Who can—with greater strength--authorize my rest, and in some kindness, steady my cane?  Who will protect me from the ravening of sea birds, and relentless gulls should they obscure my path? Who will offer gifts to me of brightened coral and silvery shells?

 

 

I am so tired.  And too weary of this place; I want to lie down upon some stretch of drier sand, perhaps some guarded place among the rocks, protected from the now measurable coldness. Upon a hastily-made bed of piquant and decaying kelp, conveniently washed up upon the shore just for that purpose.

 

Who will willingly stay with me through the long night? Who will whisper to me ancient secrets that the sea—itself—keeps secret?

 

 

 

For now, an end.

 

 

 

Oh, my very, very dearest friends, even in some great distress I think of you so often, and wish for you no pain, nor sorrow, nor sense of need or want.

 

Your comfort and your happiness resound in me a consonant joy; yes…I can truthfully say that.  And further, that you need never feel alone, but are surrounded by family, true friends (and, devoted pets!) who love you and care for you!

And that you be able to enjoy the goodness of life, and—of course—I would gladly wish for you all the happiness that your kind hearts can hold!

 

 

And—as always—please know that I love you so very dearly.

 

 

‘Zahc’/Charles