The Man on the Beach

Shadows under moonlight,

Footsteps in the sand,

Silence under moonlight,

Upon the beach he stands,

Ripples on the water,

Sweeping landscape this,

White horses ease towards the shore,

Upon his feet they kiss,

He feels the current take him,

It wraps in cold embrace,

Where he’s stood, it gathers round,

His footsteps, there’s no trace,

He scans the sky so high above,

Dark dappled, heavens vault,

Countless stars of piercing light,

For time he cannot halt,

Across the sky, a shooting star,

Blazing, golden trail,

He reaches out to catch it,

But does so just to fail,

He hears the siren calling now,

Sweet song upon the breeze,

He closes eyes, surrenders,

Sinks down to his knees,

Arms outstretched, like supplicant,

Petitions, oh great sea,

I am but humble sinner,

Do wash my sins from me,

And in the night he sees it then,

The face beneath the foam,

White horses churn around him,

The siren calls him home,

Gratefully he stumbles,

Her arms, to him they reach,

Gently pull him under,

Leaves no trace upon the beach,

Gratefully accepted,

He welcomes her cold touch,

He leaves the world behind him now,

A world that was too much,

And when the bright new morning comes,

This beach of golden sand,

A sea of calming blues and greens,

To wash this pleasant land,

Will anybody think of him,

The space he left behind,

Will anybody care to ask,

Will anybody mind,

No trace he left, in passing,

No note, no final stand,

Was he really there at all,

Or just a man of sand.

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