Landscape #2
4 o 'clock in the morning
dusk retreating and morning light advancing
a boat floating ashore
the wind is timid and the sand is still a very clean slate
you look behind you
you find your own steps
you think someone is chasing you
and you walk that fast enough
afraid to be finally caught
by your own fears
you stop to find out if the mountain moves with you
the sea taunts you
alone and weary and so poetic at this time of the day
the wind whispers to your devotion: who reads you somehow?
who cares? who loves you?
someday? sometime? the sand is still a clean slate
you are not this kind of man who gets easily intimidated by this void
you sit on the shore and then you begin to write the initials of your name
someone loves you and you know
it begins foremost with you
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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