The Illusion

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The Illusion

At mid ebb I was sitting at the side of
a tidal creek along the edge of the marsh
that cushions Essex Bay like a large soft pillow
placed on a  hard granite bed.

The stream was long and snaked off into the distance
reflecting both the border marsh grass and the
thin clouds far overhead.  The stones in the water
were like signposts showing the way to the sea.

What a lovely scene, I thought, how gentle and sublime.
This is the way to experience life; immersed in beauty,
a vision to hold onto – a flashback of the
best there is –  a remembrance of joyful days.

Three hours later, the stream was gone, the rock filled
bed was mud, no more a mirror of sky and grass .
And the rocks, alone and exposed, spoke only of what had been;
my river of peace and beauty now empty.

This must be a magician’s trick, an illusion that
appears and enthralls only to disappear
at the pass of a wand or the murmuring
of some secret and ancient incantation.

But I am the sorcerer. I am the illusionist
who attaches to objects and scenes the word
sublime. I conjure up the images to
be remembered; if not for me, beauty would not be.

Marty Luster

An encore, originally posted February 12, 2012.














  • Beautiful! both image and poem. Thanks for the inspiration.


  • Beautifully viewed ~ beautifully said.


  • Thank you Marty for making my day. Glad for the encore–I didn’t see it the first time around.


  • So beautiful, both the image and the poem. You are a master at invoking a mood.


  • Marty, I live on that marsh behind the bridge between cape hedge and long beach. You have put into words which I have always felt. Thank you for putting into words which I could not!


  • Thanks for sharing your poetic wisdom and your creative eye Marty. Sublime.


  • Both are excellent here – can’t quite figure out where this may be? The 60’s relieved. I remember something similar in the day of days farm up off high street the fields that went by the pond leading into days woods…There was a stone wall around the property where the dairy cows roamed and I remember the old spreader – They would bring hay out into the field when the grass was brown and gone. I worked on the farm for a bit hard work collecting the eggs and washing the dairy cows teats after laying and mud and cow-paddies warm bucket of soapy water before putting the machines on…Sun to Sun down…Didn’t like the bull too much honorary cuss chase after you or the electric fence used to test with long stem grass…Caught many a tadpole and frog in the pond, and if lucky painted sun turtles…before they go under always put them back…Now if you got a tiger salamander you where hot stuff! Thank You Sir! 🙂 Sorry got running here:-)


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