The inevitable beautiful, the ocean’s will

All of the beautiful things I will make

Cannot be destroyed

Only delayed.

You cannot stop one who knows

That to move forward is their choice

For the will of mortals is like that

Of the ocean

Forever beating against the shores of eternity

Driven on, on, wailing at mother moon.

I am a copse of brambles

Cut at me, I return

Thorned, clutching, birds nest in my bosom

I am ivy upon the oak

I am the course of the river

Slowly I wend through the world

Always I triumph

For there is no going back

To go back now is to die, to die

And I want to live

And I can always choose to live

Until Nature takes me back…

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