Slapton Sands

Hand on the throttle

Mind racing the road

The corners twist and bend

Running right through

The crevices of my brain

Entwining themselves within its muscle

The sand whips up a storm

On the beach I sit at

While the waves come creeping in

Teasing to reach my boots

A lone man walks to the end of the beach

In search of his thoughts

While I count every grain of sand

In my palm

Looking for God

Grains of Sand

The sea laps around

Melting the rock I sit on

Watching the horizon

Greedily swallow up the sun

The sand forms outlines of stories below

Each grain a life on earth

This one’s from the shores of Peru

Picked up by a tribesmen

Wondering what to do

And where to go

The land is barren

And his heart too

This one, the shores of Hokkaido

Picked up by a farming man

Who resided in the state of Japan

He picked up the sand

And wondered about the future

Of his plot of land

His family

Melting to the sand

Those grains of sand

picked up by my own hand

I let fall to the sea

From my palm

Where the sand returns

To now known lands

 

 

 

The Lighthouse in the Distance

The sea stings me

As one wave after the other

Tries to push me back

I rub the salt from out of my eyes

And march on forward

Forever forward

The seaweed attempts to tangle me up

In its watery web

The crabs pinch at my toes

Pointing me back towards home

The seagulls swoop low

Shrieking at me

But I can see the lighthouse

It’s so close

Yet so far