24/30

Where the Sand Meets the Ocean

The beach is a straightaway
He runs along the shore,
avoiding the water with a seagull's skill
His direction, forward
His speed, full
Only using one gear
When he reaches the lighthouse,
where the Earth ends
He melts down
There's nowhere left to go
Nothing new to race by and through
He does not want to look back
or trace his footprints in the sand
but to create new ones
Every impression he makes is unique
Textural
Every color of the spectrum