Sands of Time
My heart is heavy, my soul tired, I want to rest but none can come. I am driven to find reason which can not be found.
As I stand with lifted gaze across the distant view, a flock of sea birds rise in wing, turn shoreward in my direction, then suddenly, as if body of one, they disappear into the misty dawning day and I am again alone, reminded of fleeting times where once we stood in youthful reverie.
Tears, like droplets from a waterfall, rush on to drift away in time clearing the path where once we walked, talked of youthful things, or stood silently in misty dreams watching in awe as waves bashed the rocks at Shore Acres Park.
We stood silently observing the rise and fall of the tide at Bastendorff shore, we listened to the roar of waves and wind, and dreamed of dreams brought ashore and left to reside forever more.
We shall not walk the sands, or climb the dunes, nor skip the waves which come ashore. We will not hear the loud roar of the angry sea, or its softness when at rest, nor hear the bark of the lion calling to its mate in the light of day.
We will not view again the bright red sailors delight, nor smell the freshness of the new dawning day, nor will we again wonder aloud at the sounds of a distant fog horn or watch the lighthouse beam of light warn of danger just lurking beneath the ocean scene; we shall not stand at the jetty and watch the ships fight the ebbing tide, a struggle lost by some not so hearty souls. That time has come, gone, and passed on.
But you should know, while time has done its deed, it can not erase the particles washed upon the sands to stay forever more ...to mark the places where once we stood in youthful reverie and watched the waves come upon the shore.
T.Condon Oct. '97 (rev, oct.2005)
