The Man on the Pier

I saw a man on a pier one day
Staring out into the sea
Immovable in body, mind, and soul
Then it became apparent to me

His face, wrinkled and stretched
Every contour of significant degree
Told stories of the days of old when men had time,
But only feet and light were both to grow weary
The hair on his face grew like ivy on a building
Whose foundations had parted from the earth its purpose had been bound
And had worn into rubble

His stature suggested a thirst of higher order
But could not think itself to be quenched.
It would do him no justice to fulfill his ultimatum
But instead, serve as testament.

His eyes gazed out in what seemed to be disappointment
Like a man who could resist anything but temptation until his innocence had been proven guilty
From Alchemy to the Fountain of Youth to the Gold Rush
But not of material worth like the King Midas of his day and age where Mother Nature was the only world he knew
But he dare not hug his children
And then I realized he was but one man whose sands of time from the very rubble he had become
had almost run out

Then I see his stance quiver
And he collapses to his knees
As he touches the water, we both see it ripple
But now, there is only one of me.

The distorted image brings tranquility to my mind

A myriad of rings flow out from my decision at the source
And things suddenly become clear as I reflect back upon myself

I suppose the most beautiful things are the things that never end and never start
But I never really lived out life as if it were mine, for I believed
The existence of the only one of me that was, is, and always will be
Is nothing more than a drop of rain in the endless ocean of this world’s history;
Ever so descending, very much so descending, oh how condescending!
For neither in depth, nor in length, had I became aware of my own suspense, or at least me being nailed to my psyche like a cross
But I’m no melodramatic…
And so as I drown in my own thoughts, I remember one image washed upon the shore of my mind…

About as dead as he could be I saw on that pier
The man who lived his life in vain
On the world he chose to touch only with his eyes
With eyes that would never open...