America’s Tear
The Lion of America, while a forelimb of oranges seated anterior
The Maine-d head; aft a member composed on beef and oil,
Runs chasing the ever-fleeing horizon, pursuing the promise of
New possibilities, carnal in desires, coupled with an adverse impulse.
The single tear cried by the august creature,
A single mourn for the loss of the beauty within,
Of the wild; the last preservation of the purity inside.
Shed of Providence.
Dwarfed - though size misleading - and abandoned,
Never fails to rattle the soul within myself
Instead attracts my being stronger than any lodestone.
Years passed since my maiden voyage,
Never ceasing in plucking my heart strings.
The Island in R’ Island, one of the last great places.
A last-minute addition to my itinerary, an afterthought,
An excursion, to break the beating rhythm of life.
Disunited;
Yet isolation fails to detract from fascination,
For any vagabond recognizes time between localities
releases the thoughts beginning to throng one’s mind.
A crawling speed contrasting the metropolis crouching
in shades beyond view, awaiting pounce.
Contemplation resides in the moments between.
When espoused are mooring line and dock
Does my heart flutter with eagle wings
Soaring into the steely sky.
Brackish aroma fills my lungs, reassuring
My soul of tranquility. A light offshore
Wind is freed, misty with Atlantic
Ambition kisses my cheeks and urge
Further exploration. My cerebral appetite
Unhinged from corporeal gut, consumed
All before me. Every step, burden is shed
From my shoulders, the smell of sea and sand
Fill myself anew. Beginning my pilgrimage
Along the coast, each wave overlaps one another,
sending the white bubbling crests descending,
masking the sea glass shrewd shore
with the transparent fading water.
As tide retired, I began walking along
The aquatic frontier, feeling ensconced
By hidden coves around every bend.
The sun’s lances pierced the powdered stone,
Warming the boulevard I walked along.
Anchored before the immense, boundless
Sea, these alluring forms reside
Within my spirit; long after my being departs.
Beyond shores, cups of nectar dot the countryside
Three great hundred and five dimpled,
New reflectance for each day of a year,
Rarely wounded and soon healed.
Bluffs rise above the shore.
Climbing, troughing one step at a time,
Following cairns place along the path.
Upon cresting the apex I was greeted
With the most pleasurable view yet.
Gazing down upon the quaint town
Which this endeavor began, retracing
The path travelled. Residing upon the horizon
Stood the prominent island; named
For its grandeur, housing the jaws
Of the restless Lion. A freshening gale
Could be felt, tickling my raw, exposed skin,
Not potent with brine, instead moderated
By the golden and green grasses.
Whispers pass my ears, spilling
Secrets; persons past who stood
And stared and cherished like me.
Swallow and sparrow songs heard
Over crashes of bubbling waves below.
The golden orange became punctured
By the metallic teeth to the west.
Following my descent from the summit,
I gazed longingly back towards those ridges.
On the bluffs above me sat the pale moon;
the moon waxing brightly on the crisp August night.
The dancing wafer on ponds mimics that of a spirit,
Shimmering and wavering, never still, intriguing me.
As I stepped upon the terminal craft,
Departing from the watery diamond
I felt a part of my soul bide on the shore.
Gazing behind, the Prometheus pillar gleams,
Chained to the shore, urging stately ships
To the mystic so close within reach.
Disembodied from such beauty palpably,
Notwithstanding shall my mind be so moved,
Further it shall stand stalwart, forgetting
Neither the delightful quaint nor the lapping waves.
The lofty bluffs overlook Elysium manifested.