The melted wax from the church is sent in a barrel
It is melted again and formed into new candles
Somehow blessed by the church they graced
And now in someone's house, a hope, a light
The flames that went out years ago
Await a match, a prayer, a dark night
Once borrowed the only new part the wick
To be burned down again holy wax dripping
Seabirds fly into a towering tree on the coast
They meet briefly in a cheerful gathering
Then scour the beach front for something dead
They use the wind and glide aimlessly
As if in leisure when infact whey are chasing their food
Eyes down on those tame little waves
On that narrow slice of beach
Seabirds fly monitoring the coast
Mocking and torpedoing
Circling again and again
Use the wind effortlessly
Enjoying the mission
hypnotized by the sun reflecting in the sea
Not far out from the sand
Tide leaves its remains on the darker patch
A dead silver fish stiffens in the heat
One bird identifies it
Shadows arriving
Towering tree waits above shore
For the next cheerful gathering
The beaches up north are like that too you know
All of them full these forests that hug the shores
(They walk barefoot across the sand slowly veering from those incoming ankle waves)
Places we can take our music too
We can set up tents there and relax for a weekend right here on this beach
(The wife kicks the sand playfully, the husband is still numb from the week's work)
Of course there might be someone trying to charge us something to park the car
A fee for the entry as they do on those beaches up north
(The day continued exactly so, the wife talked about a potential camping trip there, and the husband stayed silent, hardly even aware of his surroundings. lost without his computer screen)
what you have
a big plus from fate of things that don't necessarily fit
A trial of the will
Lack smacked good
Yet you look at all that you have now in disdain
You don't see the value in it
You sit down, pour your drink and nostalgia on
Your personal package of comfort intact
The truths and realities are shun like beggers
Yet they are the jewels of your existance
And the convenient lies are the poverty
The blindfolds are mass produced
What you have is precious
Take from it everyday
Things that don't necessarily fit
Patience and care
The gondola takes us down over the forested hills
To a small tourist village
The altitude is to conjure tacky nostalgia
A sense one is somewhere else
For we are so far away
Getting off and having anxious shopkeepers heckle
Their overpriced kitch
Their reasoning to why each item is so valuable
Stories int the form clues followed by facts
That repeat far into the day
until the personality becomes an outward tool
for promoting little argila nothings
Oversweetened treats
On exit the slight relief
For these false worlds stink of desperation
And now I have to buy the house back
Here in the back yard
the scent of the decades gone
What is left of the world
Prepare your defence as if the world was an offence
I'll have to buy this house back
It is pretty much the way we left it
Like a good friendship
The world outside not so much
You see me as just some interloper
Here to acquire a piece of what was once mine
the closing gate of this life the opening to another
I see where the shed stood, the trampoline
The years gone
The crack of the guarana can opening
Whoosh fizz whish and it enters the glass bubbling upward
Fizzing back down until there are only a few glass-hugging bubbles
Waiting their turn to to float upward following the rest
To flow upward toward the surface and leave the drink flatter
With no bite and less flavor
Yes the extraverts leaving the party on cue
"To get air" They say, or "See a friend"
The essential flavor lingers still though
The guarana lolly like sweetness ricochets
between tongue and cheek
carbonation died down before the glass has emptied
