reading auras, counting the tea leaves, seeking answers to the grand questions, on irises dilated and on batik-print sleeves,
fascinated by the glitz and razzmatazz wrapped up in bite-size portions,
not unlike snake-oil and magic potions,
im lost and broken i said, we’ll fix it as long as you want to be fixed, that is, caveats galore, disclaimers even more,
none of that for me,
don’t be sellin’ me the one-cure-for-all,
even though i stumble,
and even though i fall … … …
barefoot on a talcum beach,
alone, not lonely,
with the breath of oceans’ caressing balm,
soothing pained memories away,
to the swaying of a solitary palm.
barefoot on a talcum beach,
alone, not lonely,
feeling the brushing away of past turmoil,
on a quest for solace, ever so hard to find,
yet comforted by the crashing of the waves,
as the tide washes away pain,
and leaves despair far, far behind.
barefoot on a talcum beach,
alone, not lonely,
drenched in a sea-breeze of mist,
that hushes aches of bygone moons,
tasting the salty tang on my lips,
as the burnished sun,
over the distant horizon,
swoons,
and dips.
barefoot on a talcum beach,
alone, not lonely,
searching, ever searching,
for a slice of solitude,
as memory bids adieu,
reaching under the sea so vast,
and seeking comfort in the depths,
while embracing,
tomorrows to come,
wishing that they be true.
barefoot on a talcum beach,
alone, not lonely,
seeing my truths drown,
as they slip beneath turquoise waters,
feeling my heart ablaze,
with a passion that rarely falters.
barefoot on a talcum beach,
alone, not lonely,
knowing that I am home at last,
wishing the waves would wash away,
the defences that once stood,
like an impregnable wall.
barefoot on a talcum beach,
alone, not lonely,
I have found,
at long last,
my final port of call …
dusk falls,
sprinkled shadows lengthen,
shrouding the evening,
cloaking the wildflowers, wrapped in idyllic darkness,
awaiting the new dawn … … …
serenity beckons,
a mirage of soft blues, flaming scarlets,
colours ablaze with placid compassion,
wishing for nothing much,
beholding the wilting rose, weakened by the autumn sun,
at rest, peaceful,
waiting alone for the coming of spring … … …
Scribbled Verse 