(inspired by one beautiful line of poetry written by Double-Dolphin...)
The dead are an ocean tide, they reach out
to us - the dying, as we cross the sands.
Each day on life's shore we parade about,
sun on our faces and time on our hands.
We trip upon messages in bottles,
walk upon fossils and shells turned to dust.
The waves that lap our feet are canticles,
"Our castles crumble, but build them we must."
Sailors puff out sails to glide the surface,
as divers go beneath for their treasures.
A few lie in silence for sun and bliss,
while others sit and fish for their measures.
The dead are an ocean tide; they reach out
to us - the dying, as we walk about.
The dead are an ocean tide, they reach out
to us - the dying, as we cross the sands.
Each day on life's shore we parade about,
sun on our faces and time on our hands.
We trip upon messages in bottles,
walk upon fossils and shells turned to dust.
The waves that lap our feet are canticles,
"Our castles crumble, but build them we must."
Sailors puff out sails to glide the surface,
as divers go beneath for their treasures.
A few lie in silence for sun and bliss,
while others sit and fish for their measures.
The dead are an ocean tide; they reach out
to us - the dying, as we walk about.
