Footprints on a desert shore, trails from here to there,
Stretch distantly and out of sight, leading from nowhere;
The dead bolt surf, with crested claws, rolls famished with desire,
Erasing traces of the past, clean slates and killing fire.
The wind that keens a mournful dirge, coasts shrill throughout the caves
And shrieks refrains that tell of lovers' souls consigned to graves;
Birds that feed on lesser creatures, things at rest and dead,
Alight defiant, flock and mock the speeches left unsaid.
And in this empty universe I fail to find the words,
Throat constricts of air and salt and whispers never heard;
Then mute I stare at solo trees, stripped bare by turbulence,
And cry frustrated melodies, beat dumb by reticence.
This love, this rage of angel wings, this scream of sweetest pain,
Echoes and reverberates, is all that must remain;
In hopelessness, in impotence, I watch as night must fall,
I kiss your face and die inside, to you surrender all.
Copyright © Tony Bush | Year Posted 2005
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