Wrestler With Time

I the waves glisten in the moonlight and there stands the wrestler with time. trying to grasp the concept of youth his being is like a grain of sand underneath the san clemente skies. the cedar aroma drifts from the end of the pier and into a starry night of which lays out to him the map of the past, the present, and the future. beauty etched into the universe for as long as the earth spins — the wrestler with time. old houses scatter shorelines near and far beyond the bend. there’s a soft passing of a train and the sounds begin to blend. it seems to sweep him off his feet and set his caged soul free; he is the wrestler with time. the fishermen with their buckets pack up and disappear under the dim glow of scarcely placed lamp posts. as he glances over at his wrist, laces dangling over tower thirteen. it is there where the wrestler with time seeks for an understanding of why youth fades and one’s appreciation of beauty changes as the days go by. (2021)