Resurrection On The Beach

Waters creeping along the beach head…

Teasing the sand as it approaches and recedes…

Granules being drawn out and swept into unknown destinies…

Working for the creation of a greater good, yet ignorant of the recipe.

Seagulls soar high above, snickering from the arms of the updraft…

Protected and secure from any aftermath, they witness the bloodbath…

Their keen eye spies the red coloring of fear…

Sees the sand being swirled away both far and near…

The only sturdy thing is the pier.

And yet, there is none to peer who would desire to hear.

Hear the cries and wails of unknown futures snatching their avatars away…

Greatness is in need of a new face.

Holy fires need a new place.

The human race has forgotten how to rest in grace, instead they revel in waste up past the waist, and so when you listen quietly you can hear the frantic sound of the sand giving praise, and the waters clearing the air with their waves…

Sound needs new chords.

Nails need new boards.

Resurrection upon the beach.



~The Wordsmith


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