This gallant, rolling, angry surf
has found a common friend in me-
spitting back foam and tufts of turf
like I at everything I hear and see.
Countless sands of some distant shore
are choices offered if I only would,
bust open the already weathered door
and take a side well misunderstood.
It is a cold ripple in the sky;
I do believe in the pain I make,
In the many ways I choose to live awry
for mine- and not for your- sake.
I know that life tides out, never to halt
weather to live or die I choose;
even if I except nothing- its not your fault
even the sea must water loose.
I wrote this once quite awhile ago when I was a younger person, striving for freedom…