It was a distant shore, alone as he was,
but connected by the sea,
like flat lands laying with man-made shadows;
the sand, for a moment
held footprints in memoriam of a child’s laughter
except what the land remembered
was a family apart

It was the love of a child’s emotion,
tragically killed by reason,
like signs meant to warn those who would favor nature,
as history suggests,
who once walked freely but are now ghosts,
haunting progress
with uncompromising songs of the heart

It was the will of perfection, it’s power,
meant to conquer laughter,
could not accept those who live vicariously,
in a land where the sun never sets;
but unable to bring order to the tragic clinging tides
he walked towards her
consumed by thought, but intrigued by art

It was a struggle for power,
though master and slave were interchangeable
each loving one another,
though he tired of the compromise
for once the moon appears
the grudging day must lie still once again
as long shadows wait for a new days start