My
Soul
There
is something that stirs in my soul.
It
is a storm upon the ocean and I am the waves.
Most
of them lull back and forth in the rhythm of life.
They
rise up a little, then gently lie down upon the beach,
And
then crawl slowly back to the sea.
Over
and over they are always the same—
And
they are happy ad at peace.
But
I am not those, no…I am not those.
I
am the waves that are tossed violently by a storm.
Those
that are lured to a high peak, only to be
Thrown
down to crash against a stone wall—
A
man made stone wall that stands by the sea
As man’s only protection against its rage.
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