Life as a Day
by Buck Cash

I was born at dawn.
The first half of the day was spent in youth.
They were the times I spent lying naked in the sun, bathed in that warm light.
Reaching upward, arms outstretched, I tried, not knowing better,
To capture that life, that love, that wondrous romance.
I could not have known, mine was a futile pursuit.
As the sun reached it's zenith I began to feel the sting of her rays.
My skin turned dry and red, inflamed by the burn, yet I could not turn away.
And as she raced from me, towards the West, I still could not give up.
With all my might, I gave chase, truly believing I could capture her,
And hold her close, and make her mine.
Throughout the chase I was cut and bruised by the thorns and rocks of harsh reality,
Though I never stopped for a moment to closely examine them.
On and on and on I raced, tears streaming from wind-burned eyes.
Only when the last sliver of golden warmth slipped below the horizon,
Did I realize my goal was unattainable and that I had wasted the entire day;
The first half of my life.

As I stood there, facing West,
Watching the deepening shades of orange paint the landscape,
I realized for the first time that I was truly alone.
I hungered, though not for food.
I hurt all over with the injuries sustained in the pursuit.
Aching and bleeding, burned and spent, I lay down upon a rock.
It felt cold and damp and rough, hard and unforgiving.
Still breathing hard, I looked up into a clear night sky,
With it's stars so very far away, impossible to touch:
Cold pinpoints on black velvet, useless to my wants, needs and desires.
I wept, knowing we are given but one sunrise, one youth, one day, one chance.
I had spent mine chasing an ideal, (or was I merely running from my shadow?)
I knew I would not have another chance, there would be no morning, no new day.

Now I faced only the cold, dark night; The end of my life.
With time running out, I set out in search of clothing and shelter,
And things that might make me comfortable for as long as I could hold out.
I dug in, the wind at my back, and crouched silently.

And cursed the sun.