The Last Boundary

He knew there were boundaries which he should not cross,
but on the nights when the stars were washed out by moonlight
and the scent of jasmine cut the air with longing
and the sand crystals grew rainbow colours
shifting and splintering under his feet
he felt like breaking all the rules, ignoring the boundaries.
He would find himself leaving his tent, walking faster,
then running as fast as he could, running harder
towards the forbidden land beyond the walls
where the armed soldiers stood heavy on the ramparts
guarding the city where his love was captive, but then
the moon madness would fade, the night be full of shadows.
He would return to his senses and his tent with a frisson of relief.
but one night, when a warm wind ruffled the balsam trees
and the sound of a leaf dropping in water could be heard across the silence
he rose from his mattress and went towards the gate in the wall.
Faster and faster, feet slipping on the ground, then hammering
on the heavy gate, knocking and pounding it with his stick,
running at the wall, his feet finding a purchase.

A shot, then silence. He lay dead. He had ignored the boundaries.


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