Terence George Craddock (Spectral Images and Images Of Light)
Fleeting Thought* - Poem by Terence George Craddock (Spectral Images and Images Of Light)
As I walk upon the beach
I listen to the waves.
I like to hear them crash against the rocks
Time and time again.
I think of an army charging a stronghold
A legion of surging white knights,
Contemptuously charging a wall of granite-faced men,
Brown wind-cracked faces
Shields locked for battle
Death alone will break them.
Streaming white horsehair standards
Lifted over the crest of a ridge.
The sun’s level rays
On their spear points,
And their gleaming blue shields.
Instantly rises a full-throated war cry
The clash and grind of weapons of steel,
The hollow booming of war horns, the rolling thunder
Of shield meeting shield.
A dark mass checked but an instant, a moment’s indecision,
That seems without end.
But a moment’s indecision, before the charge smashes on
With shattering speed yet again.
Yet the defenders stand
Like an island of rock
Thrust at from all sides,
The tides ebb and flow.
While the waves of destruction roar in
Wave upon wave,
Then swiftly glide back like a shadow
Or a wild animal timing its spring,
Leaving ground open
Littered with wounded or dead.
Ground already fought over
To be recontested again,
As though both sides suddenly stopped, together
And drew breath to pause.
Instantly another legion springs forward
With uplifted spear,
Against a solid line of warriors that never breaks
Or crumbles in fear.
Till at last with a long heave
The waves rise up
To pass over and engulf them.
Boiling white foam bubbles all around
While spray flies high in the air.
For a few seconds longer
I stand by to stare
Lost in my thoughts,
Not a sound can I hear.
The very essence of life is laden
Within the salt air
That I could reach out and touch if I wanted
As my lungs touch the air.
I become all that I see
As electricity is all,
Without which there are only static
Yet if I tried to describe what I see
These words would I hear.
But it’s only the waves,
Crashing against the rocks.
Time and time again.
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
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