The Poem that Began it All

This untitled poem from November 2006 is the Beginning, where my story world came from.

Bare feet feel a path of cobblestone
Crumbling along the precipice rim–
Through a gate –golden, ancient–
Open in a wasteland akin to a fantasy
Narrow, perilous and winding for a distance
Summoning weary feet to a pool
Cool and relaxing to the spirit and the toes

The pebbles glint, teasing from the bottom
Under a league of aqua
That swells and falls
Clear, opaque; calm, turbulent; azure, invisible
The gentle rhythmic, rasping breathing
Teasing of the mild touching of the waves beneath the soles
Beckoning the Soul that stands attentive
Restless in this empty paradise

Musing on a dilemma: to stay or to submerge
The waves understanding the desires of the foreigner
Alluring and wooing with their gentle undulations
Singing with the sirens whose spirits dwell in them

To indulge would be deadly, a task immersed in terror
Of gentle lapping fingers caressing shattered dreams
Pulling, as fingers draw a thread through a needle,
At the soul between their tips,  drifting silent amidst their crests

To resist would bring obsession of the overwhelming “what if”
That pervades a spirit to its core
Demanding constant concentration
Tousled and uncertain, as the tree roots tangle down
Into unfathomed depths of watery cavern,
Lasting longer than a lifetime or at least until indulgence
Never satisfied in longing
Although reason argues its absurdity
But what is reason to one’s doubt?

Thus eternity commences in a hesitant resistance
Of a calm but horrored stare into the peaceful, lacking distance
Ever weighing the dilemma
Ever swinging, as the pendulum, from one extreme and back
Though it never comes to respite in the center of its arc
As perpetual tide in oscillation
Mocks her audience’s desperation
Sliding in and pulling back
To the rhythm of his wavering resolution.


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