The Edge of Reason

At some stage in our fragile life,

We’re all drawn or summoned

To water’s non-judgemental edge,

To reignite precious inspiration,

To extinguish passing desperation.

Shoreline, never a straight sure line,

Yet a neutral, benign borderline

Between spinning earth’s solid footing

And water’s strange gravitational pull,

Alluring form’s shape-shifting wonders.

Inexplicable is early morning’s pull,

Late evening’s lull, the ebb and flow

Of eternal energy’s recurring ripples,

Seemingly seamless through space

And time’s subtle variations of “Fine!”

Bright rippling apexes of extreme highs,

Dark complexes rippling in nadir lows,

Only fear knows how it steadily grows,

Readily growing into knowing despair,

As a numbness of uselessness sows,

Throws out the last meagre shakings

Of self-esteem’s reason, logic and hope,

Finding rest, rooted in the stony silt

Around my cold bare, advancing feet.

Mighty heavens open and only knows

How pricks of sharp pain, slips of weed

Attack my almost numb yet sensitive toes,

To trumpet some small forgotten victories,

To flutter bunting, bare-threaded banners,

Still flimsily clinging to and proclaiming

My mind and spirit’s Hope! Want! Will!

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