A Time

by Doug Mitchell


A time 
when before  unto memory 
one was two under the sun,
and the clouds possessed no secrets 
to behold.

Sailing blindly and solitary
on an ocean as desolate
as the dark side of the moon,
a boat moves with no direction,
sustaining the ripples, waves
and tsumanis, 
all the while, looking for port.
Aloft in the crows nest the lonely Mariner
searches for a way to safety,
a way to multiplicity,
a way to the the riddle of the clouds.
Dolphins dance upon the starboard,
playfully glancing his way
with sad quizzing eyes
barking in a language reserved for others.
Then as suddenly as they appeared,
danced away in silver streaks
under the clear water.

Searching for realization of port,
the Mariner moved on.

A white speck hovered 
listlessly in front of him
and for a brief moment
the Mariner felt a calm resonate 
through his water weary body.
"The gulls is my harbinger."
he spoke softly to himself,
but the gull heard his speech
and flew to him.
The gull flies to sea to die,
he thought,  or yet
to hunt not far from 
the protection of solidity.
The gull perched on the prow
of his ship and looked at the Mariner
with the same eyes as the dolphin,
calling to him once,
 and flew to the west
and into the setting sun.

Surrendering to the predication of port
the Mariner moved on.

Moving steadily into the melting
horizon, blinded by the white
glare off the water,
the Mariner groped forward unseeing.
But alas, the gulls call
Echoed back to him,
heeding him to follow.
Now too, the dolphins returned
to play along the side of the boat,
dancing, circling, sliding.
The Mariner averted his eyes
from the dolphins and continued
his voyage for the far off
call of his harbinger.

Imagining the visualization of port,
the Mariner moved on.

After seeming eons
the sun drowns into the sea with only a rosy halo
of fire leading the way west.
>From his perch above the world
the Mariner spots something,
an anomaly to the flat expanse.
The moon rose from behind him,
reflecting a pale light on the placid water .
Rising in from of him vertical cliffs
opened to his watering eyes. 
to the end of his journey,
the end of his solitude.

Enveloped by the justification of  port
the Mariner moved on.

The ship slipped along the wall of rock,
searching for the opening to port.
As the Mariner slipped around a bend in the cliff
dawn broke far to the east,
illuminating the wall with a pink hue.
A break in the rock attracted 
the  eyes of the Mariner,
the salinity of his tears
equaling the that of the sea.
A low rumble came from his chest,
and basking in the early morning warmth
the Mariner let out a soft sigh.
Then a boisterous laugh permeated
the still morning air,
as the Mariner slipped slowly into port.

Embodied with the verification of port
the Mariner moved no more.

The clouds too shapes from their secrets
as the sun slowly rose from the horizon
joining when once were two now one
to on the shore 
once upon.

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