(#49) Blue

With every wave crashing onto textured sand,
A cast iron chain breaks links-
The ebb and flow pulls and detaches

Prison walls of stone and
Problems within them, erode,
Nature tears and shreds them apart.

Let every peak break the cold grey rocks
Every accompanying trough recede with
A spray of foam, and tranquility in its retreat.

The cycle is medicinal, every crash and sweep
Of the roaring waves a pair of wings-
They will patch emotions with needle and thread,

Lift and exfiltrate all that is torn and dead inside, fly
Swift fingers, to mend the listener's disparity,
The handiwork of the evening shore,

A purple sunset calls to the retiring tide to relax.
As my mind wanders far away, a dimension,
Where ease of heart is due, butter

The wounds within the body with peace-
And slumber will swallow the sea.



Written at the moment,
a spontaneous composition without halting to think.
Inspired by my stressed heart
and the sound of water in the night.