The Pinnacle

The Dungbeetle's Grizzly poem for 1992.

Running loose on a shingle beach west of Branscombe, East Devon
  others stretched in single file behind
  each submerged in pebble-crunching worlds of their own.

A weak February sun peers cautiously from between parting sheets of drift-mist
  uniting sky and sea
  in showers of diffused droplet-sparkling light.

Ahead : a towering erosion-sliced cliff-face of sandstone and chalk
  the summit formidably ashen, rises like a slide-show ice-mountain
  seeking the deceptive shelter of a delicate lace-curtained sky.

Almost frozen by the scale of our surroundings
  girdled by the embrace of our repetitious effort, we inch perceptibly forward
  starkly aware of the contradiction between our perceived strength
  and our microscopic frailty.

An invisible bond unites our line as it is wound forward, as if by some unseen hand.

The beach is shelved on several levels, each with its tide-line of flotsam;
  to our right, at the base of the cliff, lies wreckage spewn up by the heaviest storms,
  to our left the ebb-tide rock-pools stage dances of sunbeams on water.
The shimmering surfaces mesmerize a gaunt cormorant on sentry duty
  lifeless as the silhouetted extension of the reef itself,
  he dares not to react, knowingly safe enough from the furrow of our progress.

The divisions between many worlds relax their grip giving way to a flowing of energy.
The dance of light and life permeates the illusions of our imprisoned thoughts
  breaching artificial barriers
  weaving the ever unfolding patterns
  that rule our world.

THIS IS FREEDOM, flowing and dancing over the bones of our daily lives.

A cacophony of crunching shingle floods the mind, drowning all muscle-bound anxiety.
Eyes of flight shimmer off to high, inaccessible cliff ledges
there to observe the scene with remote advantage.
The sense-tastes of the morning :
  the acoustically hypnotic pebbles
  the burning colour-scapes of iridescent, salt-laden air
  and, not least,
  the bond of the others' connected presence
  - all combine sensuously, potently
  releasing and flavouring dream-code messages
  from parallel lives.

Spirits fly and play beyond the shores of aching limbs and navigational responsibility.

This is RUNNING BEYOND RUNNING, freedom in excessive, drunken quantity
  life on Earth, knowing (gloriously)
  many simultaneous identities
  and, in them, rejoicing

© Dave Kelf, 1992