Monday, March 30, 2009

302. ALL THOSE CRAZY MEN OF OLD

ALL THOSE CRAZY
MEN OF OLD
In tenuous grip, something stern and wild -
like wind in the air and fire upon the
water below - they held their sticks
like lances, thrusting across the land.
-
Voyagers and soliloquists, naming continents
and vacuums - places without definition,
meanings without import - they planted flags
where they chose. It was the searching, always:
the search for gold or endless life or wisdom
or God. Revelations underneath great boulders,
and empty tombs where caravans had passed.
The drifting sand covered things over - all things;
their exploits, their vast palaces, their tracks and
their dreams. Words were carved into stone,
lashed onto the backs of camels, and hauled
great miles, to be erected over doorways and columns.
-
Everything passed, as everything does.
That tenuous grip, thrusting across the land.

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