Walking the wet whipped beach,
Following thought
Running from memory
That dogs the days,
Dismal and deceitful
Harbinger of guilt,
Turning my face into the wind
Feeling it’s abrasive embrace
Creating tear filled eyes,
Peering out across the restless water
Torn as if in torment,
Lashing out,
Fury falling forlorn
On sand,
And me lost,
Longing for peace
Alone at the waters edge,
Lost and alone
Except for gulls
Who care not for my musing
Rather rising
Against the recently roiling rain
That walks on the water.
And turning I walk
Lone figure following thought
In this place of comfort
Bide others not to come
My servant in solitude,
Walk on,
Hands pushed deep in pockets,
Walk on Frederick Nietzsche,
Walk on John Dunne,
Walk on Vincent
Walking in thoughts
Not meant for this world,
Join me on the beach
In solitary contemplation
Too beautiful for this time
Assigned to solitude,
In pursuit of peace.