Untitled

I will not allow
What I have built up
To be torn down;

I will not allow
Anything to come between
What I seek and desire.

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I Guess

There are tons of them:
Good writers hidden from the world
Good musicians playing in the dark
Good artists painting for no one;

Some make it big somewhere
Some make it big everywhere
Some make it small elsewhere
Some don’t make it anywhere;

Do you please yourself?
Do you please the world?

Shall I venture a guess?

If you can please yourself
The universe will look on

and smile.

The Beach

The waves softly retreat
Leaving behind a shoreline of sandcastles and forgotten dreams
Kept neatly away in bottled notes half buried in the sand
Always in sight but never much touched nor remembered;

A fragment of childhood the beach remains
Dreams of yesteryears drowned by the noise of the receding waves
Once brightly glimmering in the sunlight these inspirations
Fade away as the spade is left in the sand with the bucket lying close by;

It is very likely that someday someone will
Find the bottle of childhood hopes and stories
And ask you what those times were and where they had gone to
Where in that instance you will again be transported back to the seaside;

In the sand will lie a bottle with the message of a time past:
A note to yourself years ago written of future dreams and wishes
A letter of promise and hope penned yesterday for tomorrow –
You will again read its content and memories will flood your jaded soul;

To your tearing eye and nostalgic sense you will ask yourself,
‘Where are the dreams which I so longed to fulfil and
Where is the person I so wanted to become when I grow up?”

And close by you will see
A spade left in the sand with a bucket lying close by.