Permanence in Motion
Stallions charging,
Foaming white,
Breaking on the beach.
They rise,
Raise their heads,
And charging, charging,
Race towards the sands.
Crescendo point,
The pinnacle,
Orgasmic plunge for home,
And then,
As if my magic,
Gone.
Absorbed into the solid, silent, stillness,
Of the shore.
I think, for a moment,
An abyss has opened,
To swallow this majestic power.
Trying to make a mockery,
Of the raging, roaring ride.
Until an undulation of an idea,
Breaks over me and I see
This retreating of strength,
Stirring to return,
And race again.
Throwing itself in an age old battle,
Against the shore.
And not in vain.
For the wise old ruin cresting the cliff,
Knows who will be the victor in this seaside struggle,
As the scope of its vision increases,
Year by year.
(1986)
