My optimism rockets into the clouds
Light-headed, yet a majestic view
On Earth, life resembles a conga line
Memories turn like a corkscrew
—
Does mortality become clearer by longevity
Or perpetual rolling tides rocking us to sleep
True, expensive, aged wine is more poignant
But misguided risks are ever dark and deep
—
The sea’s cool waves fill in my sandy tracks
Frothy and smooth surf, welcoming naked feet
Many beaches have burned my soft soles
Momentarily, I consider retreat
—
Feelings are proportionate to the heat
A boiling cauldron of desire
More illuminating than distant stars
Igniting senses to a roaring fire
—
Fire, sky, water, earth elements
Like fingers on the hand of life
The reach of creation’s compass
Carving my path with a knife
Ticket 2 Ride 