The Sea of Sound
On which I lay,
Floating, wandering,
Passing thoughts crash
And barrage each other
In constant battle they sail
And sink – closing the gap and
Drifting once again.
The waves destructive
Only expressed by beached ventures
Finding their way
Back and forth; but
Never complete – and in the distance
The island stands;
Home to the barred cages
That weigh it down
Suppressing the freedom
Of thought and voice.
Never to be found
By another Soul but thine own
Shunned by your personal design,
Your own creation, leaning
On the rock of euphoria, captured
By the sand. The ticks and scratches
Count the days on the lonesome isle
With nectar so sweet and thoughtless
The battling ships fade on the horizon –
As you drift; lost and alone.
But do not fear
For they say help will come –
Freedom will find you
And the discourse will cease
The shell –
Whether full or empty,
Can be free in the sea
Of wavering noise
That so influences -
The depths of one’s mind
Arise, break the lock,
Give in to the violence
Of uncontrollable control –
For the universe calls.
You will know in time,
What true liberation is.
The realization – that
The physical is temporary.
Prone to erosion and removal
From the caustic waves of the mind.
Fluctuating as does the thoughts
Of adolescence do -
Upon the first experience of shame.
But everybody feels this…
Don’t they? How do they,
Span the murderous sea of sound?
Is it graspable as the sandy beach dissipates?
Leaving the iron bars of the cage
To corrode and rust
As the ocean is traversed.
I wait; and float – seeking,
The image of terrain with no cells
Or cages on the horizon.
I have traveled,
And sought,
And found –
But nothing yet comes.
And here I stay –
Entrapped on the island.
The warmth and chill of the sand
Coursing throughout my fingertips
One day, maybe,
The static noise of the sea will cease,
And the heavens will open –
Exposing the marvels of a fulfilled life.
One day, maybe,
The static noise of the sea will cease.