I always come to the water to heal,
Even when my wounds are self-inflicted
Me, seeking the cool wet to soothe
That ache I cannot soothe myself
The idea of living my life
As an after thought,
Some bit of detritus that
Washes up to shore from
Time to time,
Remembered briefly
Then forgotten as the tide
Washes me away again
The idea of living that you can
Live your life
Collecting bits of junk from the shore
All that come and go from your life
Never able to keep
The one that matters most,
That one treasure always slipping
From your grasp just as you reach it.
There is an illusion to freedom,
Our lives always governed
By ebbs and flows,
Moon and sun,
Live and dead water,
Some pools in which we
Get stuck and stagnate,
While other seas drag us
Far from those things we want
I never know which is worse,
To never see the same place twice
Or to see the same place
Over and over,
And know there is no escape,
Caught there by obligations
You just can’t break free of,
While on the other side
No anchor can keep you secure
From the tides that tear you adrift
Always seeing distance shores
As they fade from view.
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