Golden Sea

I wade through a sandy ocean,

And each coarse grain I strike is the weight of a sea.

My breath labors from my breast and my eyes

Dry in the unending stretch of the dunes.

I feel the rhythmic pounding

of the sun on my burnt back,

It pushes against me like the moon

To the tides and I push back.

With each aching step the day is more persistent,

Even frantic against my thin resolve.

Why does he push so fiercely?

And then I fancy it, a howling inferno

Of gold as fatigued as I am.

It beats against me like it must,

And like me wants only

To bathe in that unending night,

If for only a moment.

I push back and walk on,

As I imagine this and empathize.