Standing on a secluded cliff,
Turning my eyes to the sea.
I try to net with the smallest sniff
What freedom and oblivion may be.

The waves crashing onto the rocky shore,
Each one inevitably fading away;
no longer being part of the bore,
but instead washing over the bay.

I wonder how it feels giving up to the stream;
My lungs filled with endless devotion.
For I realize the waves crashing to be redeemed
Don´t matter as long as they're part of the ocean.

The gleaming moonshine on your hair,
fragmented star splitters in your eye,
your smile repainting supernova's glare
appoint you the ruler of my sky.

Sometimes you have no reason to stay,
and realize that's a perfect argument to go.
And that taking an entirely new way,
is the sore but single method to grow.

If you're washed-on abeyance's bight,
and you feel decision's heavy heft:
To choose the left where nothing's right,
or go to the right where nothing's left.

Remember it matters not where you proceed,
or which mountain you want to ascend.
It does not matter whether you succeed,
it is the journey that matters in the end.

Trapped in a cage with golden bars of light
Of ancient habit and direful duties;
Below the water crashed into the bight,
The whispering waves baiting with beauties.

But her shadow lurked around the coast,
Dashing her to the beach like drifting wood.
Preventing her from what she wanted the most
To reach new shores from where she stood.

She wanted to travel and sail the open sea
Beyond the shingle, seaweed and shells
Closer to the horizon where the birds flew free
Or to the arenaceous ground in diving bells.

And coming back to where she started
She found her seaside changed since she has parted.
Or did the widening horizon change her perceiving?
For returning was not the same as never leaving.