Whisper From the Ocean By my Son Angelo!

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.




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