Handful of Dust

would never know
what happens after this
what should,
what will,
and what might.
I only know the
quiet aching wound
that binds and aches like
the forlorn shore.

I can never tell
a seabreeze from sand
except only your eyes,
mouth of an unknown ocean
and my parched body
longing for a wave.

I would never seek a
vacant dream,
an errant night,
a light,
touch
or
sound,
except a lament
burning as slowly
as life,
without knowing the futility
of its song.

3/16/2006 10:37 PM - First Posted