"Have you ever made a just man?"
"Oh, I have made three," answered God,
"But two of them are dead,
And the third --
Listen! Listen!
And you will hear the thud of his defeat."
“Have you ever made a just man?” by Stephen Crane [w/ Audio]
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Trudging into lapping waves
On a dim and dusky eve.
Chest deep
One pops up, pressing one's chest
Onto the water,
And swims toward a distant
Silhouetted rock outcrop.
But it doesn't stay silhouetted.
Soon, one is heading into
A grand, black abyss,
There is no shape in this world,
Only the feel of limbs -- pulling & kicking.
Sounds grow ever more feeble --
And ever more rare --
Until the smell of seawater becomes
A bright and vivid sensory experience --
Layered & textured.
Rolling onto one's back, one can see
Patches of sparkling stars
In the cloud gaps.
One lays upon the waves --
Feeling as though one conforms to them
As one floats like a piece of driftwood --
And sees the twinkle of distant stars,
In a world too vast to understand.
Lying back on the water,
Peering into a cloud,
I shift like driftwood --
rocking and rising,
rolling and dipping.
As I stare at the cloud,
It seems to stare back.
It drifts - suspiciously -
Or maybe I'm drifting
And it is still --
In truth, we're both drifting,
And neither of us has
The mental energy to be
Suspicious.
Boulders, precariously perched
on the edge of a precipice.
Do the residents
of the huts
down the mountain
ever think of that boulder?
Maybe they thought not being
directly under it would keep
them safe, but what bounce
might a boulder take --
freefalling, tumbling, hitting
outcrops, sliding on scree,
cracking to fragments,
being not spherical in the least,
and so on?
My guess is that they never think
about it... or think about it
every minute.
And in some moment when
they aren't thinking of it...
SPLAT!