I stand upon the ocean shore,
knowing, somewhere, somehow, there’s more;
more than just the money I spend,
the clothes I wear, the emails I send.
I spend the day to eat and pay,
work and play, wake and lay.
Yet, at the end of the day, am I the same;
doomed in shame to be lame?
There must be a change;
something new or something grand,
not a temporary satisfaction,
that guides me to the sand;
more than happiness, more than pride,
more than honor, death or stride.
I want…peace…and joy;
no disappointments to confide-in
I don’t want the world,
for it has nothing to offer…but lies.
and so the ocean, in its homeostasis;
says, “there’s more than just the basics.”
There she awaits, capable of complete peace
and utter destruction;
but her mysteries function as an abduction.
Where did she come from, how was she born, formed, sworn to abide by the laws?
She whispers, “every law was written;”
even before the fruit was bitten.
So, I sit here saying, I have a God who’s waiting;
waiting for the fixing, the loving, the fighting, the igniting.
My God is wanting the trusting, the praying, the singing, the writing,
the plowing, the sowing, the reaping, the growing;
“So grow,” He told me, “and endure.”
I sit upon the ocean shore,
finally seeing that there’s so, much more.
Nothing is a bore, because We will soar after the war.