Daydreaming at the Canal…

Sitting on a flat-rock at the canal.

He is so quiet,  fishing,

and when I speak to him he doesn’t hear me,

my voice is blown by the wind, carried softly somewhere.

He is silent and beautiful, as a moving picture,

A cigarette hanging from his mouth, muscles in his back and shoulders teasingly visible as his shirt ripples in the ocean air.

Who is that man breathing life into the world with his subtle presence,

nothing disturbed as though he has always stood there,

rod in hand,

long ago weathered into the boulders that line the shore.

I see him when I come to cleanse myself of the filth of the world.

The leach like pockets of negativity and cruelty that have collected themselves,

depositing themselves on my skin as a virus that eats it’s way into my blood stream,

poisoning the essence of my own self.

The salt water of the Atlantic expressing those very poisons from my pores.

Peace for my eyes at the beauty I find here.

Peace for my ears with the sounds that surround me.

The smells and the taste of the salt, sand and seaweed, burnt and dried to some sort of mermaid potpourri.

Invading my senses,

breaking vines of stress that have crept up my legs,

wrapped themselves around my torso,

weighing heavy then on my shoulders,

bearing down so hard.

Those vines break free and I look to see,

if that burnt seaweed is really only vines that have slipped

from the shoulders of someone else.

The feel of the rocks on my feet,

the heat they drained from the midday sun,

spreading warmth.

The textures bringing me closer to earth.

As though I have flown over mountains,

to reach this place.

Through caverns where dragons breath fire,

and trolls reach out to grasp me by the wings.

Twisting and turning, pivot left and right,

before I stared into the eyes of that beast.

His sadness deprived my heart of it’s beat for a moment or two.

His anger lashed out,

His teeth gnashing at my heels as I searched for the light.

Frantic to be free, and then I was gone,

leaving him to his darkness.

A blast of a dragons fiery breath,

and I steal a ride with the heat that rises,

up and out of the abyss.

Reaching, always reaching for that light,

leading me here,

to brown my skin and make me sleepy…



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