A point of View
(The Waves)
They come. One after another...
Able to fondle, able to destroy.
Forever. Everlasting. They're living together.
Dying. Reborn. And again on the row.
They're coming and carrying Fear and Hope.
Splashing with tunder or quietly hiss.
Our destiny, fragile, they're tying to rope,
Joy and Grief arranging apiece.
They come. Not asking, if we are ready
to meet the Abyss colored in Blue. ...