Brown skins glistening with salt crystals refracting
The Godly words of WM Paul Young's The Shack
Capetown city bowl now a fading cacophony
Evaporated in the heat of baking torsos, then carried
By the breeze over rumbling sea water waves
Weathered granite-cove walls fix curious gazes
On the fortunate beings hitting beach bats
Or playing with the powerful wave surges
Colossal sea weed branches bask on the surface
Like scattered bodies returned to their natural state
Both belonging and splendidly oblivious
Daylight colours magnify under the mediums of
Sunlight, sea air, Ray Bans, and visceral lenses where
Time has found itself full and meaningless
Time has found itself full and meaningless
