The Riddle of the Sands
by Michael Doyle

With my mind's last breath
I felt myself melt into my death.
Reality faded into flowery dimensions,
None of which flows with great precision.

But  the sounds inside were already gone
Before I realized what it was to go on.
Embracing the liquid sky from Mars to Mercury,
This temple of wonders was a lot to see.

My streams of half-forgotten thoughts
Had unreal perceptions of shoulds and oughts.
These led me to gaze at a fire so far away
That I would have sworn it was yesterday.

Touching waves as time lapsed into yesterday,
I clung to the memories I thought of along the way.
My dreaming eyes looked up at the starlight,
Forging my identity with the spirits of the night.

Was it all just psychobabble of the old and wise?
Or something surreal that filled my eyes?
The silence was when my fingers got burned
And you laughed at me, at how I hadn't learned.

Jesus, He certainly knows me
Driving the last spike of my misery.
I should leave dreaming to when I sleep.
The things I've seen make me want to weep.

Tell me why I hold on to my fragile heart.
I always have, since the very start.
Leery of the ways of the world in all its hurt -
Walking off the trauma on full stop, red alert.

Since I lost you, I've realized that I'm not so clever.
Living feels like it is cold and goes on forever.
The days fade into the months of the frozen years.
And the riddle of the sands is found in my tears. 

(c) June 28, 2025   Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved