Oh but for those wild days
Where the yardarm greets the sun
I could abate the little bird
And be the only one
Who stands upon a portal
And sings upon a rock
Who nestles in the silent night
Walking to the expanse of the dock
Why jump; one thinks and ponders
Why not; one thinks again
Happenstance sits over yonder
But serendipity, she sends
A message – in a bottle –
Coming from the heart
Entice the ‘castle’, built on sandy coast
And thought of, like a cart
That travails in her journey
To and from her homestead land
Ending bi-coastal adventures
That reflect a supple hand
That leads to ebbs and flows
In the ocean they call life
A choice of vice or virtue
In the afternoon’s delight
Does light shine upon you
Or does darkness build a hole
Where innocence is lost
And guilt, from pride, will take its toll
If we mislay our innocence
And find our fault-line again
Will uncertainty be censured
And life’s hypothesis be sent
To a man who sits, enraptured
Reading knowledge, cast as thought
And understands the notion
That wisdom can’t be bought
Yet on the ‘castle’ stands a King
Looking out upon the stone
Where the man sits viewing sunsets
From what he terms his ‘throne’
And throughout the night he ponders
And wonders at the world
His smile – captivated –
His life is now unfurled.
sensualism 