A Wall of Steel Once Projected

Every Wednesday I go to see. Every Wednesday, I go to see. It’s a
Wednesday, and every Wednesday, I go to see.

Wednesday rolls around on waves crashing toward me like an unstoppable
tide of forces visible but unknown but surely I must know by now.

I do this every Wednesday.

Who could know better than I of the slowly unfolding crisis that
threatens to destroy every block of recomposed stone on this concrete
shore with steel barbs piercing the waves in isolated resistance only to be
battered and broken and buried.

A wall of steel once projected there.

I remember it clearly.

And its memory remains in the swirls of water that yet circle that point as
if commemorating a valiant but futile attempt to resist its power.

A muscle memory of sorts.

Solidified in the liquid tissue that punches and contracts and punches
and contracts and here I stand just out of its reach teasing it further and
further toward unstable ground.

Is it chasing or following?

Either way I am at the center of its universe with each crashing
inscription that defines mine. If it breaches this wall it will change my
world forever yet here I stand doubting its indomitability.

Does this shaky ground undermine its power?

Or feed the untamable bull that charges and charges and charges toward
me and everyone really who stands in its way.

And in its way is the only place one can stand can’t they? Can anyone
stand outside the path of this all consuming force? Can anyone stand
without it?

How can I even ask such questions on a Wednesday.

I’m here at the precipice of a crisis that I observe from within that I feel
in the air that condenses on my skin despite all my attempts to escape it
ignore it defeat it my thirst for its energy is unquenchable.

Any other day of the week perhaps but not today. Not on a Wednesday.

Every Wednesday I come to see. Every Wednesday, I come to see. It’s a
Wednesday, and every Wednesday, I come to see.