Waving

Reaper’s thunderclap

On trails of white

Absolve me of woe

Refresh the turning time

Pondering vastness

Awaiting, eagerly–

The swift rain of knowing

Patterns in the sand

Moments burning–

In small fires

Hissingly quenched

I roam deeply

Promised a new day

Wondering, childishly

A vacant stare into the darkness

Sometimes swallowed in black–

But it’s territory already crossed

A map guides me back

To freedom

Still rolling in bursts and gasps

The crisped edges crashing

Breathing, groaning

Pounding down

Wasting away

Slower than perception–

Fast enough to feel

The tide goes out