Monster’s Wading Room
By Tyler Lucas Mobley
No need to follow my path,
don’t know how to live with
instigating death.
A brown torrent five meters across
appeared as mild as tea and cake.
Being eaten or becoming prey,
not fond of finding oneself on
the menu.
Timeless terminators, in need of
minesweepers for submarine feet.
There on the beach, sandals in a fist,
we’ve all heard of Russian roulette
we welcomed the unknown.
The phenomenologist SAT,
a religious act of faith, a
declaration to life and it’s
persistence.
Breathing axioms, in up to our
chests, a steady forward pace.
A year later a surfer at the
same crossing caught a bite in
the leg, he didn’t make it out.
A conscious choice, to allow
the world to unfold as it will,
to put your life in the hands of
something beyond yourself.
“To dare is to lose one’s footing
momentarily. Not to dare is
to lose oneself.” – Søren Kierkegaard
Walk Where You Want 