Election Day

We gather on a gloaming shore,
to face a calmed, indifferent ocean.

We gather, as we have before,
by darkness and the deep.

For, on this day, the Spirit moves:
I cast a stone upon the waters,

As others do: take up their shot,
and throw them out to sea.

What matters it that some cry 'Here!'?
'Throw here! That a base foundation may be laid!'

The pebbles tossed sink 'plink!' into the void,
leaving only ripples as a gleaming clue

For, as they move upon the calm, dark surface,
those small waves catch the little light they can,

Catch, and throw, and catch again. The light is spread:
a brief illumination by which to see.

No, it matters not, the places where we choose to throw.
Simply that we do