I used to think that love was having billions of elaborate words and beautiful phrases to describe someone’s beauty and how much you worship them.
I used to think that love was a tragic, oh so tragic, drama where heartbreak was inevitable and once it occurred you were set free. You were then freely allowed to write even more melancholic poems about how handsome their eyes are when they smile.

But now I know that it isn’t about writing lovely poems of how breathless they leave you; it’s about the feelings they leave you with that you cannot conjure or create words for.
But now I know that is isn’t about a grand sacrifice, a grand martyrdom, a grand abandonment of your tears and blood for their smile; it’s about compromising between fire & water, peace & war, the sun & the moon, to find a balance in which both factors can coexist.

But now I know that it isn’t about having an ocean of words you can use to describe the color of their eyes; it’s about being awestruck, with no existing adjective that could possibly capture how they make you feel, how godlike they appear to your eyes.

But now I know that it isn’t about being able to bring forth a tidal wave of glorious prose or soliloquy on their posture and grand gestures of self-pride; it’s about being speechless, where no phrase or paragraph or page will describe their tiny perfect gestures done in your name.

Love is allowing yourself to become so lost in someone, that it doesn’t matter what you have to say.
It’s as easy as letting your actions speak in place of your normally exquisite torrent of words.
It’s as easy as letting someone into your head & heart, so that they may share your feelings, for simply telling them with inadequate words would not be enough.
It would be so easy, to become swept away in the tide of emotion brought on by their presence.

That is to say, love isn’t easy.
Relationships aren’t easy.
Communication isn’t easy.
Trusting isn’t easy.
Love comes with a price.

Love that stirs apathetic crowds, love that launches a thousand ships, love that stops a million tears, love that changes the evil greedy world, love that rights wrongs, comes with a price. 

You must compromise.
You must bend but not break.
You must explore but not stray.
You must fight and communicate.
You must cry rivers of tears and break down the highest walls.
You must trust.

It is hard, it is the hardest thing you will ever do, but it must be done.

It is hard to trust so fully, trust so openly, that their love is what you exist on. It keeps you blindly shuffling through the dark, occasionally bumping heads and hurting one another.
It keeps you trying and pushing for more, because there are light spots in the dark, gloriously warm and inviting light spots where no shadows will ever exist.

It keeps you breathing, it keeps you surviving, it makes you human.

Trusting is hard, opening up is hard, we’re all just afraid of someone leaving us in the end, after the dust has settled and the battle has raged...right?
We’re all just afraid of letting someone close enough to see all of our nasty imperfections.
We’re all just afraid of letting someone close enough to decide that they do not like what lies underneath the beginnings of early affection.
We're all just afraid of letting someone close enough to show them each and every scar and smile, to explain each and every story of why they are there.
We’re all just afraid of rejection; and loving someone, and having someone love you in return, doesn’t vanquish this fear over night. 

I used to think that love was all winsome words and delightful thoughts and alluring formulas of letters.
But now I know that love is not all roses and forget-me-nots, yet it is not this dark twisted creature spewed from the broken hearts of young lovers.

Love is like every other valuable in this world, it is rare and it is to be treasured. It is to be held closely and grown and protected.
It is to be nourished and pruned and weeded.
It is a garden where only the most beautiful flowers may grow, if given the proper attention and care.
Yet, it is also to be treated like a wild beast: beautiful, and free, and pure, and dangerous.
It is a feeling of the world, of the earth, of the dirt.
It is wild and untamed and can turn it’s darkest face towards you at any moment.

Love is so much more than a poem, or a haunting melody, or a word meant to label some unreachable feeling.

Love is not easy, not always gentle, and never fully graspable.

And why write about things we cannot fully describe?

I used to think that love was having billions of elaborate words and beautiful phrases to describe someone’s beauty and how much you worship them.
I used to, and still think, that love is easy to define and clearly explain, but it is not.

Love, like every other cosmic and easily misconstrued notion of human existence, is not tied to any phrase, paragraph, or page.

Features of Measureless Endurance
Some have stood and looked on the face of the Nile others have stood at the base of Everest it’s hard to
Turn away your gaze you try to place it in your mind it jumps the bounds starts to build in tremendous
Colossal extravagant realms these alone can bare the load or cross the everglades see the meaningful
Mixed with the extreme confusion and at some point the secret turning envelops you and you except
What you can and digest the rest but there is a greater reality there are times in ordinary days you
March to extreme distances troubles exhaust either you are looking through eyes filled with tears
They ache and are weary your rescue comes unannounced from the most unrecognized source
Something that little thought is given the face in the mirror we look then forget give it little thought but
Others when wasted times befall them they look as if they are hungering for the sun after a long
Troubled night of darkness in the hidden recesses vagueness intangible non graspable bodiless
Memories materialize then fade when the aching heart would have your hands reach forth and hold
They give them the telling of deep longings that surge and crash against the walls of your soul
Speechless inability chokes the words that want to flow are ****** by powerful forces and into this
Torment one thing emerges as a soft glowing light saying in effect the darkness can’t hurt you I am
Here you are at a loss for all things dear then eyes that have seen you through some of the hardest
times and ears that have listened when all others turned a deaf ear to your cry then the mouth begins
to speak your knees grow weak overwhelmed you know times you thought were lost forever all foreign
distant lands you were walking fade and give way to the surest and most agreeable time a hand slips
into yours they never even know the blessing and comfort that is provided by that ole familiar soulful
knowing face that you never give a second thought and yet here its volumes cover hidden wounds that
are barely understood but the beaming glow takes you in tow carries you beyond treacherous reefs you
find you are being drawn down the island shore to a safe place that you can go inland you will find you
are a stranger but the face of your friend is well known by all and you will be accepted loved and cared for so the next
trouble breaks across your tiny boat look not at the waves but the strength etched in the friendly
feature of the one wisdom created for you alone in this you can master any storm know the soothing
mist the grandeur of sunset peace burst through every ray giving way for you to say thank you father you
have your way in the storm and you have anchored my heart in a sure place an altogether loving face

Some have stood and looked on the face of the Nile others have stood at the base of Everest it’s hard to
Turn away your gaze you try to place it in your mind it jumps the bounds starts to build in tremendous
Colossal extravagant realms these alone can bare the load or cross the everglades see the meaningful
Mixed with the extreme confusion and at some point the secret turning envelops you and you except
What you can and digest the rest but there is a greater reality there are times in ordinary days you
March to extreme distances troubles exhaust either you are looking through eyes filled with tears
They ache and are weary your rescue comes unannounced from the most unrecognized source
Something that little thought is given the face in the mirror we look then forget give it little thought but
Others when wasted times befall them they look as if they are hungering for the sun after a long
Troubled night of darkness in the hidden recesses vagueness intangible non graspable bodiless
Memories materialize then fade when the aching heart would have your hands reach forth and hold
They give them the telling of deep longings that surge and crash against the walls of your soul
Speechless inability chokes the words that want to flow are ****** by powerful forces and into this
Torment one thing emerges as a soft glowing light saying in effect the darkness can’t hurt you I am
Here you are at a loss for all things dear then eyes that have seen you through some of the hardest
times and ears that have listened when all others turned a deaf ear to your cry then the mouth begins
to speak your knees grow weak overwhelmed you know times you thought were lost forever all foreign
distant lands you were walking fade and give way to the surest and most agreeable time a hand slips
into yours they never even know the blessing and comfort that is provided by that ole familiar soulful
knowing face that you never give a second thought and yet here its volumes cover hidden wounds that
are barely understood but the beaming glow takes you in tow carries you beyond treacherous reefs you
find you are being drawn down the island shore to a safe place that you can go inland you will find you
are a stranger but the face of your friend is well known by all and you will be accepted loved and cared for so the next
trouble breaks across your tiny boat look not at the waves but the strength etched in the friendly
feature of the one wisdom created for you alone in this you can master any storm know the soothing
mist the grandeur of sunset peace burst through every ray giving way for you to say thank you father you
have your way in the storm and you have anchored my heart in a sure place an altogether loving face

Some have stood and looked on the face of the Nile others have stood at the base of Everest it’s hard to
Turn away your gaze you try to place it in your mind it jumps the bounds starts to build in tremendous
Colossal extravagant realms these alone can bare the load or cross the everglades see the meaningful
Mixed with the extreme confusion and at some point the secret turning envelops you and you except
What you can and digest the rest but there is a greater reality there are times in ordinary days you
March to extreme distances troubles exhaust either you are looking through eyes filled with tears
They ache and are weary your rescue comes unannounced from the most unrecognized source
Something that little thought is given the face in the mirror we look then forget give it little thought but
Others when wasted times befall them they look as if they are hungering for the sun after a long
Troubled night of darkness in the hidden recesses vagueness intangible non graspable bodiless
Memories materialize then fade when the aching heart would have your hands reach forth and hold
They give them the telling of deep longings that surge and crash against the walls of your soul
Speechless inability chokes the words that want to flow are ****** by powerful forces and into this
Torment one thing emerges as a soft glowing light saying in effect the darkness can’t hurt you I am
Here you are at a loss for all things dear then eyes that have seen you through some of the hardest
times and ears that have listened when all others turned a deaf ear to your cry then the mouth begins
to speak your knees grow weak overwhelmed you know times you thought were lost forever all foreign
distant lands you were walking fade and give way to the surest and most agreeable time a hand slips
into yours they never even know the blessing and comfort that is provided by that ole familiar soulful
knowing face that you never give a second thought and yet here its volumes cover hidden wounds that
are barely understood but the beaming glow takes you in tow carries you beyond treacherous reefs you
find you are being drawn down the island shore to a safe place that you can go inland you will find you
are a stranger but the face of your friend is well known by all and you will be accepted loved and cared for so the next
trouble breaks across your tiny boat look not at the waves but the strength etched in the friendly
feature of the one wisdom created for you alone in this you can master any storm know the soothing
mist the grandeur of sunset peace burst through every ray giving way for you to say thank you father you
have your way in the storm and you have anchored my heart in a sure place an altogether loving face

Static of definite extinction, to whom are We allied?
If it is to Your noise, Your scatter and clean-up-later attitude,
then We are separatists.
If to Whatever, We are assuredly conspiring cohorts.
Do You claim to provide what We've needed all along,
but have simply been too short-sighted to know We've needed?
Or do You delineate? Do You define Us by unpacking Us,
thereby reconstructing Us into sections of a whole untarnished tool?
Machinery, if you will?
Take, for instance, television.
Do We need, or even want to watch?
Needlessly We need it. We want it for lack of choice,
or so We think. It is, simply, there.
Easily - and how easily We may never know - one may turn
to the body's offerings, or the plummets and peaks of the mind.
Sport, science, language, art, human, essential, vivid, now -
they are nearer than no one knows; practically graspable.
But Static, You move Us to wish.
You **** Us to think we must consummate Ourselves.
As We said, We are separatists.
Declare some vapid civil war.
Who, then, will provide your nothings?

Some have stood and looked on the face of the Nile others have stood at the base of Everest it’s hard to
Turn away your gaze you try to place it in your mind it jumps the bounds starts to build in tremendous
Colossal extravagant realms these alone can bare the load or cross the everglades see the meaningful
Mixed with the extreme confusion and at some point the secret turning envelops you and you except
What you can and digest the rest but there is a greater reality there are times in ordinary days you
March to extreme distances troubles exhaust either you are looking through eyes filled with tears
They ache and are weary your rescue comes unannounced from the most unrecognized source
Something that little thought is given the face in the mirror we look then forget give it little thought but
Others when wasted times befall them they look as if they are hungering for the sun after a long
Troubled night of darkness in the hidden recesses vagueness intangible non graspable bodiless
Memories materialize then fade when the aching heart would have your hands reach forth and hold
They give them the telling of deep longings that surge and crash against the walls of your soul
Speechless inability chokes the words that want to flow are ****** by powerful forces and into this
Torment one thing emerges as a soft glowing light saying in effect the darkness can’t hurt you I am
Here you are at a loss for all things dear then eyes that have seen you through some of the hardest
times and ears that have listened when all others turned a deaf ear to your cry then the mouth begins
to speak your knees grow weak overwhelmed you know times you thought were lost forever all foreign
distant lands you were walking fade and give way to the surest and most agreeable time a hand slips
into yours they never even know the blessing and comfort that is provided by that ole familiar soulful
knowing face that you never give a second thought and yet here its volumes cover hidden wounds that
are barely understood but the beaming glow takes you in tow carries you beyond treacherous reefs you
find you are being drawn down the island shore to a safe place that you can go inland you will find you
are a stranger but the face of your friend is well known by all and you will be accepted loved and cared for so the next
trouble breaks across your tiny boat look not at the waves but the strength etched in the friendly
feature of the one wisdom created for you alone in this you can master any storm know the soothing
mist the grandeur of sunset peace burst through every ray giving way for you to say thank you father you
have your way in the storm and you have anchored my heart in a sure place an altogether loving face





--------------------------------------------------------------­------------------

And why is it that with every sip of bourbon
I gaze into your eyes?
How can it be that I smell your perfume everywhere?
What sense does it make that I see your face in my dreams?
I have not seen you in so long yet almost every thought I have reverts to you....
Though I do not complain,
Somehow it causes pain
To see all yearn, no gain, from seeming I'm insane,
I awake with your kiss on my lips,
For false dreams and hopes, your memory sticks,
What's worse, is that we converse with quips
Of how it may have been, yet is,
You sway as the ocean's tide at dawn,
When beautiful sunlight crest's its yawn,
As innocent as a devout deer's fawn,
Yet your guile does show its brawn,
Your vision to me in dreams is steady,
Stagnant at night while my heart grows heavy,
If only you knew, if only I'd say
That the warmth for you yet grows each day,
Each moment that passes craves detention,
Respect for all my admiration,
Betwixt your legs and arms' invention,
I pray to spend each night's volition.
Of all the words in my graspable language,
You escape all knowledge of my brain's sanguine,
And of all the things I could say and do,
The plainest and strongest, I Love You.

The great, green Giant sleeps all through the day;
beer-bellied, toes outstretched, dipping into the sea.
He lazes beneath the springtime sun, while we sit idly
anticipating possibilities and to-bes.

This dead castle bursts with life,
seagulls, and sandwiches,
and cameras capturing the view
onto something they can hold;
something graspable.

                *

The Giant disappears at night;
merging with the mountains.
Fading into the dark, as the waning moon
creeps up behind and over and above;
dripping reflections to feel a connection
with the earth again.

Lovers wander now, wandering through the flirting streets
which tease with uncertainty, and curtain the
awe-striking depth of the darkness that dumbs their speech
as they 'turn at this corner and just along the promenade..'.

Pushed back by a blast of wind;
numbing hands cold.
Forcing them away from
prolonging a gaze on the Sea's cruel honesty;
knowing they would be driven mad
by endless questions of eternity.

Questions they attempted to drown out with music and dancing
and Tequila shots and the kissing and the music and the dancing...

But now in the air, by this high-tide, they are
Modern-age-small-town-philosophers.
'Have you ever seen the petrified forest?'
Will they tell stories of us too?
Life is so short and now is certain, well...
as certain as certain could be known for certain so..'

So, after meditating on the existence of existence,
they find refuge in the optimistic light of the stars.
Warmth for the spirit from the deep, dark, cold depth of the darkness;
'Because the night is so very young.
Look, there are still stars in the sky...'

Venus is inconsistent; an evening and a morning star.
And, oh, is that Orion's belt?


         Lying on the floor, in the morning, after a night of philosophy.

Every fire hazard sign points the arrow at 'extreme'.

                      The drought has lasted several months now, clouds form and the world is left encased in midday shadow, but they just watch, never speaking up, never expelling.

                                   Industrial sprinklers produce short burst waves in spinning circles, the grass a crop circle of pale embryonic green within it's radius; brittle fragments of bleached hay and dry dirt outside.

/
          The fly the waiter gases lands on a half deflated bag causing it to buzz incredibly loudly as it chokes, making everyone uncomfortable
         /

---------------------------------------------------------------­--

        #@000000000000091   The town is French themed, a pastiche for the tourists. it's imprinted on the crockery, see. The restaurants are all le Chinese takeaways selling Classic London Style Fish and Chips. Which i mean there's nothing wrong with i guess but it's just kinda funny in the loosely jarring kinda sense, the we-are-all-thrown-into-history,-into-ablative-cultural-efficacy-b­ut-it's-never-quite-something-graspable-or-fixed;-never-quite-s­omething-that-orientates-itself sense,  is all i'm saying.   i
                 mean it's a port town it makes sense they sell fish, but as all the tourists pass by and the Harbour mouth surrounding the 12 million year old magma plug breaths out the ocean ebbs up onto the rugby parks into the downtown area and breaths through all the cobblestone shop windows, It inhales, and the cars slowly waltz away from their anchorage and into the middle of the lake, which is fine because all the pedestrians have floated into the sky, hardly noticing with the sombre and tired paper-deep excitement that the tourist and holiday workers mirror at each other.

                                   -----------------------------------------------------------------­-


-   //
 #AAC00000121.  A local restaurant and hotel owner laments to the newspaper that it's been a slow valentine day season   "it's like   people have forgotten what this is supposed to mean to them."
//   -

....

a faint line remains marking where the magma reached up the cliff faces each time it drowned everything every few thousand millennia, everyone murmurs that it's jolly interesting, but
    make indignant mewling sounds as the bubbling lava dissolves their bones.



                                  |||   |||
                              /  ///

.
  .
     . . . . .


[...ANywqay, yeah sorry. so what i was getting at was this. yeah yeah no i was! a punchline and everything! yeah! yep, ]
                   so
there's this one art museum a few blocks down from the main street,
  that focuses on cups and mugs; beautiful antique drinking vessels uniting every place and class and history.
         they change the theme occasionally, but really most of the itinerary remains the same so there's only so much they can do. currently it's

            "the sublime
                            as manifest
                                               in the functional and inconsequential"

these simple, life supporting tools, at once represent mans departure from nature, whilst functionally reaffirming our dependence on simple essentials. The drive to turn even these basic utensils into a reflective aesthetic process, showcases -even in primitive societies,- this emergent human drive for the sublime. This gallery hosts in equal regard the exquisite geometry of the gemmed goblets of patron kings, alongside the hand-wrought asymmetric terracotta mugs of artisan peasants. In each is the baseness of re-hydration, in each, the transcendental act of creation.



the coffee at the gift shop cafe was served in bleached polyethylene

Many are not able to grasp it.
Your love I mean.
What with all the pain,
Afflictions,
Wars,
Hatred,
Religions,
and the like.

Try as they may to grasp it just to slip from their fingertips.
Your love I mean.
Without the logic,
the sense,
the proof,
the evidence,
the tangible,
or something physically palpable.

Oh sure I have sang about it,
Perhaps preached about it,
Even scolded others about ignoring it.
Your love I mean.
Perhaps this makes me a hypocrite,
a bigot,
an ignorant,
a self-righteous,
maybe even preachy,
or a holier-than-thou type.

If I  cannot fully grasp it, how can I share it?
What is true for many is not true for others.
Your love I mean.
What with the studies,
the science,
the confusion,
the politics,
the agnosticism and atheism,
and the overall misunderstanding.

Few truly grasp it enough to sincerely share.
Oh to be adjoined to the martyrs because of it though!
Your love I mean!
To perish,
Lay down one's life,
Give up the ghost,
Enter the glory,
Cross the great divide,
and join the angels.

In this was it made graspable though,
Your love I mean,
Through the Godsent,
the Son,
the Lamb,
the Prince of Peace,
the Counselor,
and the Wonderful!

The first time I saw you,
I knew you were different.
through the heart palpitations and rushed inhalations
I saw clearly enough to differentiate
You from the obstinate, the inate,
the circle jerkers, the irate.
I just knew.

When you walk into the room,
Fahrenheit becomes Celsius and I hide somewhat inside and through my racing heart and my blood rush I time my glances so you don't think I'm staring.
But I am.

When you smile, you unwittingly create,
a mini universe with you and I.
When you laugh, out of sheer infectious joy,
I don't know whether to do the same or cry.
When your name pops up on my phone;
A loss of breath occurs with a stutter of unsaid words as the world stops and I stare as if into a daydream rising and rising until the magnitude of the amplitude is realised in its entirety.

The world is lit with fireflies as I dive into a sea of you as I'm enveloped by the idea of loving and giving and romantic evenings of dinner for two.
We'll drink champagne as we toast to Russell Crowe, to puns and the fun that will be had to come in the graspable future.

We'll stay up all night and watch the stars,
billions of light years reflected in your eyes as the fireflies dance and we're both in an each other induced trance in our mini world of two absorbed in wanderings and night meanderings.

We'll watch the sun rise in a blood red dawn vanquishing the fallen stars.
We'll watch the world grow and throw itself into decline and rise, following our own timeline, grabbing our destiny with both hands letting no regret reprimand us for what we do.

Because, the truth is, I love you, and there's nothing I can do.
In my nights awake all that's thought about is you.
In my dreams and daydreams, you're the sole proprietor.

the peace to my fire.
our happily ever after.

Man, these opinions be really ******* up my mental.

They don't stop me from making money just stop me from standing tall.
They shouldn't matter and for years I've let them roll off my shoulders.

But as a human being, hearing the same thing only makes me colder.
I don't care what they say, but to my dismay, it's everything you deem unfit.

The tiger stripes on my belly, the extra softness of my thighs.
Things that I viewed as simple characteristics but yet these are unflattering in your eyes.

The bulge of my stomach, the layer of graspable skin on my side
Those are all things that I've let slip from my mind
They don't stop me from soaring higher, achieving goals, or even improving my skill set.

But your gaze is like daggers and your words like bullets
It causes these now undesirable features to fester my soul
If I dare fix them they have to gain your approval.

And for those who still think that words don't matter, step off of your pedestal and let me serve you a reality platter.

If the vast majority declares it outdated you drop it.
If the vast majority says it's trendy you adopt it. And while it may seem easy to ignore the hype, it takes an extremely mentally strong individual to say **** it and goodbye.

We would all like to believe that we're our own person.
But when there is a flaw that is repeatedly critiqued, we lose sight of who we are and that's the number one lesson.

The dreamers still dream while their dreams are still there.
All bold and naive - few nightmares to interfere - with a dream that compels and compulses, persuades and convulses the veins of a dreamer to never slow down; to never slacken the pace.
Running after their dreams as if in a race.

The dreamers still dream while their dreams are still there.
All young and naive and bold enough to dare
to chase after their dreams at a breakneck pace
through insult and injury and shame and disgrace.

The dream shines on like a finish line in the mind of a dreamer.
Transforming the intangible into solid, graspable things.
Transforming fear and doubt into fuel to propel themselves towards achieving something thought impossible by all the non-dreamers, the non-believers, the bad teachers and ex-dreamers who've crossed their fingers in hope that the dreamer will fail.

Because why should they succeed when they've already bailed?
They gave up on that dream. It's impossible, you see.
That ship has sailed.

But the dreamer knows better.

Through sheer persistence and force of will,
the dreamer dreams still,
and finds a way to **** the naysayers' doubts and come out on top.
Staying true to themselves and belief in that grand thought:
that they can make their dreams a reality.

And when they do, the doubters will drop their jaws,
stand up and applause,
shed tears at the fact that their long abandoned dreams are now staring back at them,
intact.

And they'll realize that what they saw before as foolishness and naivete,
was really just the courage they lacked.

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.