an existence of forbearance.
Waiting storms out in shells of civil disobedience, hoping for death
to come along and enhance it’s meaning.
Standing at the edge of every wave, praying to drown beneath it’s
sturdy grasp, yet still looking to heaven for a miracle of hope to
issue forth.
Unnecessarily drifting about from horizon to setting sun, finding
nothing worth living for, balancing on the edge of one.
A solo to be played, whisperingly remembered and faded into the ocean
along with all other footprints taken away in the sand.
Disappearingly quiet, hope ebbing in the coming tide, uncared for and
set beneath this sunless day of life.