"Stars Like Sand"

This is a poem about overcoming obstacles, but it is also a poem so "mythical" as to be surreal. Mountain is assualted by beings ranging from Waterfall and Morning to Gopher to Treetops and Lost Wars. The visuals inspired though, are meant only to make the central point of the poem more poignant, namely that it is about turning to inner tranquility and taking things as they come. The Mountain never forgets his poetry, never forgets his actions. By embracing his tranquility, though, others take even more offense and more come to attack him. In the end, everything collapses and only the Mountain has lived a life dedicated to what he likes. The title, and the last line, are a reference to God's promise to Abraham, that he would have children "like the sands" or "numerous like the stars" (paraphrased, of course). It is not meant to directly reference it, just link back to the concept of a moral person in a world where morality sort of wanes.

Laughing aloud in a cynical way Waterfall flow-crashed into Mountain one day. "Pardon me," Waterfall burbly spoke. The Mountain quiet, covered with snow. Morning sun saw this, and whispered To his brother Noon, "I'm bothered By his lack of passion, who could care For such a stone? Who would dare Invest, emotionally, in that granite?" Along came their elder brother, Midnight, Who smiled, and smote Mountain with his stars. Dug deep trenches, left small white scars. Up rose the Moon, their bastard kin And tossed her five cents of damage in. Her Man-in-the glared, her halfness overflew, The assualt against Mountain grew and grew. Up came Gopher, and Raven, too. Up came Lost Wars, and leathery Dew. All washed Rain Upon the Mountain's proud face. The Mountain never spoke, None of those days. Once came the Hero, and the Villain as well. Once came the Treetops, and once came Hell. Mornings and Suns-set, Hours and fauns, Came like Thunder, underneath the Suns. And thus it was that Mountain was abused, Battered, broken, shattered inside. Bruised. But still the Mountain stood, for miles of time. Quietly, honestly, writing his rhyme. Until one day Mountain laid himself to rest, With quiet eyes, and a quiet breast. Eons of poetry, down in his stone. A smile on his face, that quiet tome. And the Suns above, quieted as well. Waterfall had Nowhere and nothing to fell. The animals walked home, the forested land. The Moon floated in Midnight... The stars like sand.

This poem written by W. Doug Bolden.

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