With the palm of your hands
Amidst the cries of seagulls
and the deafening thunder
You could barely holler
Your voice lost in the brouhaha.
I paddled my way to you
Despite the tumult
And against practice
I reached out
And by any measures
I delivered…
As the scribe later penned the bond
The waves and the clouds and the moon far up
Bore witness to our deed
Only to realize
Ten cycles later
It was mere theater
To be replayed
On other random stages.
Ali H. Raddaoui
10/19/2019
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