The truth of water

Cast upon the rocks of human experience,
We turn to face the tidal wave again,
To be sent crashing, hurled upon the rocks.
Each time thrown with renewed force,
Broken, bleeding into a sea of tears,
Trying to return to a childhood sense,
Of who we are, of wonder, and of home.
Each breaking, shaping, tearing wave,
Tainted with effort’s blood and salted by tears,
Teaches us there is no home to find,
Only the ebb and flow of life and hope.
When sinew breaks and muscle screams,
We try instead to cling to those sharp rocks,
To find our fingers torn anew to bleed,
And whisked once more we find our place,
Within the heart of vortex oceans,
Drowning from experience, tired, alone.
The waves crash on us pull us under,
Forced submergence in our lives.
Until at last we find ourselves transmuted,
Taking the form of gulls who skim the water.
Our experience the fable of old sailors,
A tale to tell the next to face those waves.



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