Home
A buoy bobs in the distance, stoic and in sync with the waves, and the wind, and the current, and the tide, and the sun,
That beats lightly through the grey clouds that run from the horizon towards the shore.
That beats lightly, channeling warmth through my veins and arteries.
I swim towards the buoy, its tip facing the sky, a homely chopstick, a mighty obelisk,
I swim towards it with muscles aching from the cold of the icy October waters,
I swim towards it with my heart pounding with bliss and joy, and gallons of hot blood racing through every vessel in my body.
Like waves cresting upon the dock, crashing into white crescendos of foam and wisp,
Like the ripples that are ever changing, subtle and obvious, fading and infinite, as far as the eye can see.
Nothing leaves my sight, yet I see nothing but the soft blinking of the light sitting atop the buoy, bouncing, dancing, and flirting
Nothing stops the rhythm of the light as it blinks, blinks, blinks,
Nothing stops the tide as it comes and goes, in and out, in and out,
I approach the monument, the red altar to man’s small imprint in the vast ocean.
I grasp out at the bobbing buoy and slip, and lose my legs
I find them, I kick, I reach, and grasp firmly and surely, the red bar that encircles the buoy.
Buoy of red paint chipping off the deep red ochre of its iron inards,
Buoy of the first ship to enter the harbor,
Anchored firmly to the bottom, you are, and yet you bob forever more,
And as your light blinks, blinks, blinks, my eyes burn with the salt of the sea,
And as your skin flakes off in great red sheets, my skin tightens into clumps of flesh desperately clinging together to feel heat,
Of comradeship, of togetherness, when you are all alone, your face to the horizon and your face to the shore,
Your base pointed to the seafloor, yet never touching it,
Your head always toppling, yet never falling,
You are my comrade, buoy of flaking skin,
You are my comrade, buoy of rusted iron,
You are my comrade, buoy who has seen a thousand sunrises, and a thousand sunsets,
And I shall see them with you; I shall tread with you, in frigid waters, under the gleaming sun, under the thundering clouds, under the sheets of rain,
And I shall be your comrade, if you would cling with me,
And we will not mourn for ourselves because we are far from the shore,
We will not weep, ‘less one of us will drown,
We will not sleep, ‘less one of us is down,
We will not stop, even if the sun never sets, or if the sun never rises.
For your light, your beacon, that is my sunrise, that is my sunset,
For your rail, skinned and old, that is my shoreline, that is my beach,
And together, we shall stay, with eyes at the sky, with eyes at the horizon
We shall stay, with our faces at each other, and our arms entwined,
And together, we shall remain.
Do you hear me? Yes!
Do you see me? Yes!
Come, my beacon!
Come, my light!
Come, my sunrise!
Come, my night!
Come, oh comrade, for we mustn’t stop here!
There are horizons to explore, and new suns to seek.
Break your anchor, red buoy, and we shall ride.
For the tide never stops, and the waves never rest.
That beats lightly through the grey clouds that run from the horizon towards the shore.
That beats lightly, channeling warmth through my veins and arteries.
I swim towards the buoy, its tip facing the sky, a homely chopstick, a mighty obelisk,
I swim towards it with muscles aching from the cold of the icy October waters,
I swim towards it with my heart pounding with bliss and joy, and gallons of hot blood racing through every vessel in my body.
Like waves cresting upon the dock, crashing into white crescendos of foam and wisp,
Like the ripples that are ever changing, subtle and obvious, fading and infinite, as far as the eye can see.
Nothing leaves my sight, yet I see nothing but the soft blinking of the light sitting atop the buoy, bouncing, dancing, and flirting
Nothing stops the rhythm of the light as it blinks, blinks, blinks,
Nothing stops the tide as it comes and goes, in and out, in and out,
I approach the monument, the red altar to man’s small imprint in the vast ocean.
I grasp out at the bobbing buoy and slip, and lose my legs
I find them, I kick, I reach, and grasp firmly and surely, the red bar that encircles the buoy.
Buoy of red paint chipping off the deep red ochre of its iron inards,
Buoy of the first ship to enter the harbor,
Anchored firmly to the bottom, you are, and yet you bob forever more,
And as your light blinks, blinks, blinks, my eyes burn with the salt of the sea,
And as your skin flakes off in great red sheets, my skin tightens into clumps of flesh desperately clinging together to feel heat,
Of comradeship, of togetherness, when you are all alone, your face to the horizon and your face to the shore,
Your base pointed to the seafloor, yet never touching it,
Your head always toppling, yet never falling,
You are my comrade, buoy of flaking skin,
You are my comrade, buoy of rusted iron,
You are my comrade, buoy who has seen a thousand sunrises, and a thousand sunsets,
And I shall see them with you; I shall tread with you, in frigid waters, under the gleaming sun, under the thundering clouds, under the sheets of rain,
And I shall be your comrade, if you would cling with me,
And we will not mourn for ourselves because we are far from the shore,
We will not weep, ‘less one of us will drown,
We will not sleep, ‘less one of us is down,
We will not stop, even if the sun never sets, or if the sun never rises.
For your light, your beacon, that is my sunrise, that is my sunset,
For your rail, skinned and old, that is my shoreline, that is my beach,
And together, we shall stay, with eyes at the sky, with eyes at the horizon
We shall stay, with our faces at each other, and our arms entwined,
And together, we shall remain.
Do you hear me? Yes!
Do you see me? Yes!
Come, my beacon!
Come, my light!
Come, my sunrise!
Come, my night!
Come, oh comrade, for we mustn’t stop here!
There are horizons to explore, and new suns to seek.
Break your anchor, red buoy, and we shall ride.
For the tide never stops, and the waves never rest.
