On the Low Cliff

Soon will he desert his post after such a long time,
A reason I do not recognize as he only looks there.

Can you see the horizon? The place of dusk’s rebirth,
I figured maybe a mystical sea drawing him to gaze,
Or insanity driving him to believe in mythical creatures,
Or just waiting; longing for a friend on a vast ship.

I have shouted with a couple of rocks I have thrown,
Yet, to him I was a gust of wind passing by as a whisper,
No message is carried and no message will be sent,
Just his eyes darting onto the horizon for the setting Sun.

A reason I want to understand eradicating this haze,
My small wooden ship that I sail would not distract him,
Nor the everlasting errands I am shouting to the crew,
Will he not share his hardship? Will he ever end his stare?

Friday, 12th of August 2011


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