1 Degree the difference

 

1 Degree the difference…

 

Crawling up; straining from under

That heavy load that screams to be born

Fingers bruised; from under nails now bleeding

Crimson eyes by weariness worn:

Twisting, turning, sleepless nights

Scar covered shins reflect the signs:

Life’s journey hampered – did you commit the crime?

 

Willing winter to finally break

But this ominous silence my solitude makes.

 

Waiting for the winds to rise

Searching out the changing tides

Pondering each grain of sand

On endless beach shaped by infinite time…

 

The things you feel are there to remind you

That there’s yet a stop to this endless line.

The mountains high that seem to confine you

Were always meant – in the end – to be climbed.

 

The sculptors hand holds the power to create

But plans – at best – are fickle and therefore he may break

Though nothing that’s shaped is ever a waste

Like the most fragile of ironies that should bravely be chased.

 

And so the prodigal son may contest all he wants

The outcome is sure to be painful and harsh.

But contentment may arrive at the very next breath;

His destination reached with the first step he takes.