I Chase the Sun

May 30, 2009
By leslie horwitz BRONZE, Swampscott, Massachusetts
leslie horwitz BRONZE, Swampscott, Massachusetts
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Blinking eye, sable pupils gleaming,
sun rising over mountains green
I feel unbounded, free
and yet…
the physical grounding, limits
How can I graze the stars with my 5’ 2” frame?
In every breath an opportunity
life a reaching goal,
there are no limits on the soul.

Wandering eye,
I seize the world.
I am parched, thirsting for an escape from the mundane
myself is,
man, imperfect,
in a perfect world.

I chase the sun.
Clear azure skies, sun, how we frolic so,
You always shining one step in front, until,
round the bend I gain the eastern lead,
anointed dew, uninhibited smile, dancing across my face,
my legs, propelled by my own feet,
not four wheels of pollution, smog, gasoline, Middle East, suicide bombers, American troops, inheritance of hate, vicious cycle, no end,
Persecution of the past
Blame
Remembrance

....inhale…exhale…inhale….exhale…
With rose-blushed cheeks, I return,
to the innocence of nature,
the steadiness of the clouds, hypnotic,
white sheets blowing in the wind,
garden of Eden,
fountain of youth,
“Open Sesame!” behold, Aladdin’s cave of wonders,

I feel the blades of grass, the dirt,
the ant pacing on my arm, the sun,
the drum-beat of my heart,
the breath of God
I feel.
I fear.
Though my conscience relatively clear, and the superficial often my only daily woe,
beneath every fruit tree lays the darkness of the ground,
King of the Underworld, spare my Persephone!
Cursed pomegranate seeds!...may I never taste,
Nuclear warfare, dying earth, tidal waves, hurricanes, cancer, deafness, deaf, wrong place wrong time, planes, bridges, tunnels,

RISK…

I fear, and yet,
I Live.
for to waste one precious grain of that mortal hourglass is by far
my greatest
phobia.

Everyday I walk a few blocks from the city to the pasture,
to the place where one can sit upon a rock and ponder,
open fields, crisp air, quaint pond hosting new born ducklings,

But only for a brief repose,
tick-tock, tick-tock
how quickly those cows rewind back into their vortex in the sky,
and skyscrapers replace that vast horizon of swaying grass.

The introspection, though, far less fleeting,
lingering, long after the pasture has left this terrestrial realm.

I am that hiker, laugh if you will,
who, with eyes’ glued to the landscape, falls face first over an audacious rock,
but I only smile, beaming pride, because,
I refuse to ignore:

The grand modesty of nature

The origin the man

The origin of Myself.

The author's comments:
This piece was inspired by Walt Whitman's "Song of Myself." When I wrote this piece I felt I gotten the chance to truely look inside myself like i never had before. I hope the reader will too gain this sense of the self and its place in the world.

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