East Eventually Becomes West

Each lace chokes dust from my shoes
Out of the gate, running from dusk
I head east to Persia's Sea, leaving behind
Minarets that look like sprinklers in the sky

And on several blocks I pass
The devoted ones facing their sun
-Workers praying on burlap mats
-Families on rugs of burgundy silk
Meditate, prostrate to Mecca
As sirens of discordant chants
Awake Corvus from banyans

Eventually, I arrive at the ocean's edge
Where whispers of short-period swell
Gurgle on flotsam, tar and sand
There I kneel, pushing my feet
Deep beneath the surface

I am thankful to be alive