“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
