The beauty of heat upon sand
Carries a stronger voice than I will ever know
The message in this tranquility
Offers seclusion only the birds are able to grasp
Their paradise is our canvas
Their home, our escape
We cannot appreciate their wings
The way wind carries their souls
We are the Watchers
The Over lookers
The Enemies

We mock their stances
And we piss where they stand
We photograph their essence
Without permission
Chasing after their gifts
We throw trash on their lands
Half-expecting shit to be flung upon our heads
Our airplanes were made for competition
But they won the game
We can never know
How open a bird’s eye can be
But today I sat on their level
And tried.

02/22/2005

Author's Note: I went to the island and walked on the beach. Finally found some much needed inspiration! =)

Posted on 02/22/2005
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