Ocean of Days

I am just an Empty Chair Seated in a Sea of Flooded Sand Holding a Personal and Lonely Vigil On this Riskiest Edge Of both Soft and Solid Land. My legs beneath me are Strong I cannot allow myself to become Weak I must possess a certain Fortitude To not be swept away from Life's Lonely Beach. Oceans of Days try to continuously pull at me They attempt to sweep me far away Like the tides they come sweeping in and out They assail me day after day I hold on to my balance dearly To not falter and get swept away. They never stop assailing my essence Their days seem to have no end in sight They seem to feel completely within their rights To be completely and utterly obsessed with having My inner self as their solo obsession. They keep trying to erode my every thought and prayer They attempt over and over to sweep me away If ever I were caught completely unaware They would most certainly pull me under To the depths of their neverendings To the unconciousness of their unending days. I hold fast to my stability To my little chunk of solid earth and solid land To try and stay within my beloved earthly realm Of timely air and lovely breath and ever inquisitive man. I am just and only an Empty Chair Seated in this Sea of Flooded Sand The Oceans of Days surround me always I am as an Island in a Sea of Man. I am all alone in this Ocean of Days I fight againt the forces that would rule me. I try and hold on to my Stoic Vigil On this everchanging Sea of Slippery Sand On my Last and only Good Precipice Of what I hold so dear as Solid Land. I am a Stoic Island Surrounded by a Sea of Turbulence That does not care It does not care Whether I live or I survive Of this fact I am fully aware. And so as I exist alone on this Beach of Life Wishing to be Seated as Two but am Seated as One Braving the exposed plight of my disappearing youth I have seen the Seasons come and then just as quickly go on Time truly waits for no Woman or no Man. This is the most evident of Worldly Truths. I hold on fast to my one and only concrete thought That my existance should not and only be Just my means to my eventual and final end To my Life there should some Meaning be That there should be something of myself left behind Besides just an Empty Chair in a Chaotic and Flooded Sea. (January 2, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin) (c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely,