“Here is something else to think about,
How many times have we strayed?
The roar of the brine swell,
When it is right in our crux,
Happening is we become to resistant,
To its constant coastal presence,
When the wind gusts it embraces us,
Into another sphere far off wharf,
Where we had planned to be,
The ennui of life we can simply,
Lose focus of meaningful goals,
Of the beauty that is before us,
In just reality alone of one day,
We have to stop at that moment,
And listen to the pounding,
Of the waves within our hearts,
In the end we are still who we are,
Us against the world yet not alone
In a BELABOR of the WAVES”
By Andrew Guzaldo 9/1/2018 ©
Sep 1, 2018
Sep 1, 2018 at 6:35 PM UTC
“Here is something else to think about,
How many times have we strayed?
The roar of the brine swell,
When it is right in our crux,
Happening is we become to resistant,
To its constant coastal presence,
When the wind gusts it embraces us,
Into another sphere far off wharf,
Where we had planned to be,
The ennui of life we can simply,
Lose focus of meaningful goals,
Of the beauty that is before us,
In just reality alone of one day,
We have to stop at that moment,
And listen to the pounding,
Of the waves within our hearts,
In the end we are still who we are,
Us against the world yet not alone
In a BELABOR of the WAVES”
By Andrew Guzaldo 9/1/2018 ©
By Andrew Guzaldo 9/1/2018 © Poem#120
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