The Faith Chronicle: Footprints in the Sand

Waves brush bare feet as she angel (2)
Wanders these lonely shores
An empty beach graveyard of
Dreams, the moors of ambition,

Fish, flesh and fowl all discarded
Amongst the froth, these broken
Compasses cause time to stop,
She walks aimlessly, a basket of

Shells given freely to visitors
Of her unrequested home, but
The basket is a quest in itself,
Filled to the brim for years,

Cleaned by endless streams
Of tears, egged on by fear of
Confinement, the sun remains
A never-ending orange glow,

Painting the skies with an
Eternal sunrise, a blessing in
Disguise for her youthful bones,
And gifts she hoards for the

Unborn creatures of the sea,
White dress billows, an emblem
Of peace, the flag of purity hoisted
For travelers to see and break

This oblivion setting her free,
Clouds still against their canvas
Brush strokes morphing their
Forms, change sounds in the

Gentle breeze, the indent of
Another pair of feet ingrained
In the sand, waves rush and
Tiny springs come to life once more.

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