Monday, July 6, 2009

The Battle

Where pink air like roses and sunshine mixed
infused waves, spray rose/
crystalline light makes clear seem dull
and no wonder why the painters choose here
Terns bullet and dive, perfect projectiles
perfect killers and I am happy
The beauty of the place where land and sea fight
is always, to me, power
and grace
and peace
it is in the constant battle, give and take away
that my human mind finds comfort
like it can relate in some way
like the struggle is ok
or, even more, like it isn't really a struggle at all
but beauty
and truth
and balance
I must name it what I name it
but "a rose by any other name..."
The sun sinks, the waves crash pink
clouds dusted on blue and puffed on blue
Here, at this place, there are 360 degree
sunsets
and the sun itself is only the spark
that lights the circular fire of pink to black
of a sunset color
The weight of the beauty, shear thickness and depth
will crush you 
and let it
to be decimated is the goal
Sun drops, glowing, burning with cool color 
orange to pink
spread full
waves pound rose colored spray
and 
and
can a person believe
can a person believe
amidst the embrace and becoming
of color and scent of earth
and night approaching
is the moon
opposed
clearer than the sun
and tied by the pully of gravity
as the one drops the other is lifted
clear like the beacon of what is to come
a different kind of light
reflected and to be reflected upon
like the night itself
and that is the day
and the very particular moment of time
not day 
not night
not darkness 
not light
but as the sea pounds the sand
the dark squeezes the light
and my mind is at home
far from it's plight

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