a spray of anxiousness

Each day breaks, as a wave would

Crashing into my senses and awakening me to

my bedrock of nonsense and idleness.

 

I awake with a spray of anxiousness.

I imagine gull cries to herald the morning

(another wave crashes, then it lapses away without notice)

I stand dumbfounded, uncertain, before another day

I search for a fresh breeze and wipe a salty sting from my brow

 

scene after scene, incident after incident,

wave after wave, each with a potential to

crash the shallow meaninglessness I wade in –

and provide real hope of achieving,

of completing one’s self

 

Chris George 

From the collection entitled “At 42” 

June 2004

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