What The Lighthouse Told Me

I sit, legs crossed
watching the turning Lighthouse
and thinking about time and distance.
Time is a road we travel on,
branching but linear,
weaving through those close to us
until we reach the end.

The Lighthouse turns, illuminating a tree.
A left-leaning tree, pitched away from the sea.
Am I left-leaning too?
Does the resistance of the time I move through,
the advancing years and life cycles
put such pressure on my aging body
that I, too, bend?
Do I curve with time, do my lines weaken
the way thousands of hands will smooth
a downward stair rail?

The Lighthouse oscillates. My thoughts spin, too.
A truth becomes clear in that moment.
It is not gravity, exercise or injury
that shapes the growing and aging body.
Time bends us, we lean away from the wind.
It shapes us lovingly,
molding and pruning as if we were Bonsai.
Walking on time’s highway, we won’t need shoes.
Our forms will bend to fit
the curve of the roads ahead.

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