Failure as a wave;
It comes and it goes
Crashing upon oars
Of those brave souls
Who meet each turn with the struggle of before,
Growing ever closer to their goal

When the oars cease,
The waves do not heed
And still they fall with equal speed
Swelling beyond what can be imagined,
If the oarsman shies and dares not look at them
For Failure is a wave; a churn That must be met
with eyes uncluttered and heart full stretch.

I move in soft swirls
and sharp currents,
Blanketing landscapes in
Silent torrents.
I am a burden and a beauty,
As pure as I am deadly.
I am blinding, captivating, demanding.
Demanding on all;
On tired backs that shovel my fall.

Seaside skies
Rich hues of blue,
Turned skies to seas
On which sea birds duel.

Waiting for life
When is it due!?
Waiting for death,
Oh, how I've waited for you.

If we expect,
We aspire,
For that which expires,
Accomplishing little,
Save our desires.

To sit on a porch is a wonderful thing,
An act of peace, wrapped in serenity.

The will-o-wisps past, rustling turning leaves,
A cadence of crickets, soothing melodies.

Good for the heart, even better for the soul,
Embracing that place, this moment as a whole.

The vow is mine,
Contingent upon our lifetime,
It is of me
Done for thee,
We;
Its soul link,
its sole hope for amity.