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V


  time beach

the dry forgotten sands
slip through our hands
pass through the glass
to commit the crime of time

and even as we frown
they trickle down
leaving their lines of laughter
to mock us as we age

to shock us as we rage
for the dying of the light
is not the start of night
but the beginning of a heaviness

the weight upon our souls
ebbing our flow
slowing our quickening
thinning out our thickening

yet as we are weathered
a lightness untethered
reveals our leaden alchemy
all things reduced to one

so we embrace mystery
the essence of our worth
drawn down upon the earth
in rolling dunes of history


ray cologon
april 2003




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