I feel like a ship at low tide.
Marooned. The wind my blow but it cannot take me.
So like thr ship I wait.
Wait for the water to carry me so the wind can push me.
When this happens my only limits will be where the wind can take me and the water will carry me.
Only on that day, like the ship an i fulfill my purpose, only on that day can I be fulfilled.
© Simon Farnell 2016
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I stand absorbed by the falling water. Like moments in time they coomr and go so fast. Lost to the pool below, mixed together in an inseparable mix.
Yet my pool of thoughts can be separated, in mixed from the rest to bring g back moments in a drop, feelings lost to be rediscovered.
Soon I’m lost to every falling drop, memories crash over me in a crescendo and the moments lost in the torrent until I can feel them again.
I sit there, at the end of what has been. The void seems so large, the task ahead so big even from a far .
I will not look back, I have to look ahead and cross this void. I have to climb this mountain.
I know what’s behind me, I’ve just come from there. Only by going forward can I hope to find what I’m looking for.
Whatever that might be…
If I sit outside tonight and stare hard. Will a shooting star pass by and give me that bit of hope?
If I make a wish upon that star will it hear my cry in the dark? Will it know what to do and grant me hope for simple happiness, nothing complex, or mad or extravagant. Just a simple plea to life to stop it relentless charge and let me gather my strength with some time and happiness.
Ill ask it nicely, with a cherry on top if it likes. But will it know to hear and will it listen?
I guess I just have to seek and ask if it comes my way… then hope.
I know I love the rain, but this is silly
They say one can have too much of a good thing
I’m soaked to the core and feel cold
I know I like the rain, but seriously enough is enough. Even a frog would need an umbrella
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I close my eyes and dare to imagine
Letting the chaos of the day melt away
Imagining a boat on a sea far away
The cool and quiet of the setting sun and the wind so gentle filling our sails on reach.
The lapping water, the sails waving gently with creaking timbers the only disturbance.
Where is this life now, what point is the chaos without this to rest my weary soul?