The Turn of the Tide…

On the shore I linger, willing and waiting,
My purpose is there, briny and baiting.

Waves of hesitation erode stony turf,
I see answers adrift beyond foamy surf.

Promises bathe deep in my soul,
Elusive and wary, this tiresome shoal.

Abyssal paradise; a fathomless mind,
Obscure, unsure, impossible to bind.

This mariner’s garden, divine to perceive,
A remarkable prize, I may never receive.

Immersed I pursue, endurance my guide,
Hopelessly hoping for the turn of the tide.

Back to the Eyrie

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