The End

The waves strike the cliffs of bone
and reduces the dawn to dust – the daylight
fills the holes and cracks, our souls are renewed.
Can you hear the ocean crash?
Can you hear the salty roar?
Our bodies adorn the weather-beaten chairs
on the cliff-side, alongside the faded
paint of the cottage we’ve come to own.
And we sit in the sun, drinking
grape juice and caffeine – at journey’s

end - we’ve come so far, we’ve hacked
and slashed through the mental
jungles; danced through the fire, the mists
of desire. We’ve fought the darkness
for a rundown house on the seaside
and we don’t have anything to fight anymore.
So we waste our time in the salty air
and wait for the struggle to come
around again.