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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,
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