Swimming to Sandy Bottom

 

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Swimming to Sandy Bottom

Working my way to sandy bottom,
through murky waters growing clear.
Through all the things I daily think of,
I hone in on what I hold dear.

Swimming down to sandy bottom,
down to past truths and future fears.
The daily details float behind as
I face old matters in arrears.

If my whole life should tell a story,
how do the details all add up?
I’ve always thought time was a sieve, but
perhaps I’ll find it was a cup.

Working my way to sandy bottom,
the flotsam of my years floats near.
All the past terrors and past glories,
and future truths I’ve come to fear.

Trying to reach that sandy bottom,
no oxygen to draw my breath.
Working our ways to sandy bottom,
we spend our lives to buy our death.

All the glories and the triumphs.
All the failures and the fears.
All the trophies we’ve collected,
and all the tattered, used-up years.

Working our ways to sandy bottom,
will there be gold grains in the sands?
Too late to spend discovered riches,
they slip like lives right through our hands.

Working our ways to sandy bottom,
our lives lift up as we swim down,
As we leave the past behind us,
we find our future all around.

 

This was actually written as a song.  I had a melody in my mind as I wrote it, but it awaits a more talented composer of music than I am. The daily addiction prompt word was “hone.”

24 thoughts on “Swimming to Sandy Bottom

    1. lifelessons Post author

      Thanks, V.J. I just love the word “bottom” when it is used geographically. I’ve told the anecdote before about when our local small town newspaper published a little blurb in the town news section that said, “The men are busy this week moving dirt on Ben Dykstra’s bottom.” (By this they meant his bottom land near the river but of course his cronies had a great time speculating on how big Ben’s bottom must be for the men to spend all week moving dirt on it. Ha!) My dad, who was the aforementioned “Ben,” was not amused.

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

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