If I
look down,
I won't see the warm sun
in the pacific blue sky,
nor will I see the canvas balloons
or the cheering crowd
at the parade of my arrival
to wherever it is
I happen to be heading

And looking down
will only strike in my mind
the maniacal mirage
of the murder that's stabbing my feet
and clawing up my calves
after treading tirelessly
through yesterday and tomorrow,
through hottest high noon
and deepest, fiercest midnight

No, I hold my chin
parallel to the ground,
parallel to the fuming
moor of miseries over which
I march so defiantly,
and with every mile marched
I know I have just one less
to traverse today

Thus the dunes
are not
so daunting
after I already
have a thousand behind me,
each one ahead shrinking to mere
grains of salt
beneath my sandal shoes

01/01/2010

Author's Note: Hmm.

Posted on 01/02/2010
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