The Seaside

I breathe in the sun of the seaside and kiss the sheen on the waters for the last time I came is still bitter, like the stench of old perfume.
The seaside had whispered eternity, haunting me with captivity so I sailed through the clouds just to set foot on firm lands.
Now I run and view anew for the years have cast shadows on the heap of jagged rocks and the balm of slight breeze.
But after a while, a clear sky is all I seek with the morning in my sight for the night’s truth lies, as it did to me many a times.
Starlight in shards of obsidian 
A few blue wildflowers in a bed had climbed up the death in a relentless downpour
The fallen have drifted to the darkness that stretches, from the drizzles of apology to the merciless grasping of weakness.
I pant like unclothed sea stars and slow my pace to gain the new drops of enlightenment.
Brightness may blossom in the cosmos of actuality but can also perish to favour the realms of specificity
And be a fly on the wall and let the winds blow the ashes of those marked ill-starred.
Thus I learn that the night rests in the womb of the morning, 
Like the streaks of bold and pale on the fickle sunset sky.
I see the waves recede, washing the sands of its belongings, never to come back the same again,
For the treasures it reaps are ever-shifting, like the rain in our eyes, in a good or bad light.
Things that seem one way wasn’t the same way all along because forever
holds cracks, carved by the whims of change.
Thus I bid goodbye to the smiling seaside, devoid of the regrets of the days gone by, having finally found an answer for keeping them at bay on a harsh and austere night.

15 thoughts on “The Seaside

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