Spanish Sky

As I lay upon a beach
and feel the waves break themselves
upon me in salty swells of innocence,
I watch the sun drown itself once more
in distant ocean reaches beyond the borderline
of where the earth meets the sky,
and far off stars slowly unveil one by one
as the moon turns and looks my way.
I have never seen a sky so clear,
so naked and unashamed of its twilight glory.
I see a star for every tear I've shed,
for every doubt I've felt,
for every time I've wished a change of season.
And all the while the moon sits there
like a broken promise, a forgotten secret.
For all its beauty the sky is a cold reminder
of things done wrong and words left unsaid.
But as I start to cry in pity for myself
a new light moves across the dark dome of night.
It is a comet, a celestial ball of fire and ice
racing from horizon to horizon with graceful purpose.
As it soars above me my heart swoons at its brilliance,
at its blameless magnificence and unknowing passion.
I run along the beach, leap across the surf,
and pray with fevered soulfulness that wings will sprout
from my back so that I might fly into the night
and into the arms of my desire and my dream.
But no matter how much I wish,
no matter how hard I pray,
I always crash back down to earth with nothing gained
save a broken heart and wounded soul.
So I sit and watch and yearn for what I cannot have,
to try and touch the infinite in you,
what seems so close yet so far beyond my reach.
Would it have been better to have never seen,
to have never known what happiness lies in the skies above?
This I try to answer as I hold myself
shivering in the cold spray of an ocean
as uncaring and unfeeling as the night around me.
I hear music in the crashing waves
and laughter in the sand beneath my feet,
but my soul is silent, without song, without words.
And as I stare into the Spanish sky
for the missing piece of my puzzled heart,
I find myself in the end as I was in the beginning,
alone. . . and afraid.

-- Justin R. Macumber --

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