A Crippled Man

Down the starlit street of desire and despair,
Two frail, brittle legs stand next to a cane of pure hand widdled oak.
The handle made of shaven ivory, inlayed and offset with gold, silver, and gems.
Ruby's that dance in the moonlight, emeradls that herald the days impending brilliance.
Amythyst sending violent rays of silvery purple across the bony, withering hand.

Shoes that have walked many miles, seen many faces, and tasted many rains,
Seem to talk of the tails as one slow agonizing step after another is taken towards the beachfront.
Laces broken and frayed, sitting in holes that no longer have grommets, resting on a tongue ripped from wear.
Soles as thin as feather, skirt and skid along the cobblestone streets,
Knowing that they are reaching the end of the journey.

Two arms slide down the front of a weathered leather jacket.
Zippers corroded and devoured by the saltwater spray.
Some torn or missing teeth, smiling at the world with its jack-o-lantern grin.
Spots of faded, dried cowhide, standing out like the very stars in the nightime sky.
Softer than holding a baby duck, straining against the cold, hard wind.

But his face, his face that sits upon a skinny neck.
Wrinkles and tan, scars and tears, all perched upon that face.
Unrecognizable to all that know him, knew him i suppose.
Eyes that held the weight of the world, brown and deep.
Rolling like the caverns of the jungle,
Shining like the sun facing extinction from a black hole.
Cheeks perched high, skin drawn tight, and hair blazing white from the stress of life.

This crippled man has seen many come, made many go, and has known all that life can give.
He has taken the world, conquered it, known it, loved it, yet now he despises everything he sees.
He has walked the roads that lead to nowhere, created new ones, rebuilt the old ones, and taken people to lands unknown.
He has tasted the sky, drowned in the ocean, and toppled the highest mountain peak.
He has lived.

But the beach, his only true love, calls to him.
It beckons with a compulsion only known to the dying.
It pulls and sways, leads and follows, showing him the true light of day.
He slowly sits as worn joints rub and pop, causing his dried cracked lips to pull into a smile.
He knows he will see it once more.
He feels the approach, heralds it's coming.
He watches the sunrise.
And dies.