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Desolate

Waves Wash over me .. they recall,
In bruises black waves,
The breakers roll.

A gentle lap,
Swept aside,
Aside.

All angry crash,
Borne away by the tide.
Just the horizons sadness and the stark vestigial memory;
black waves washing over me.

Endless sea,
the maddening flow,
of rights and wrongs, of shames and blames, illusions, delusions, reality, truth …

Enough …

The shore may not know what the castaway shows,
no hunt for nourishment,
nor shelter,
nor relief,
no need or care for proof.

All those things will never be.
All those things just never were.
All the words you’ll never hear,
above the rip-tides roar.

It doesn’t matter,
no it doesn’t matter,
not now,
not anymore.

I won’t wallow in your waters,
or drown,
or thrash.
I’ll wait in silence.

I will endure.

Adrift within the oceans embrace with no wish to find the shore.
Drifting in the seas embrace
till the waves wash over,
no more.



This post first appeared on Izzy On The Eye, please read the originial post: here

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Desolate

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