A fate intertwined with doors left ajar
It aint out of habit, I can't understand it
The grit of the grasses that scower the Planet
A pillar of patience shoots from the Atlantic
A circle of stone perches up in the Arctic
A season of thistles, mirages, and missles
Consider the latter as anchor for hardship
This ocean it glimmers out into the night
Blocking the view of an eternity bright
Witnessed at a distance, the passing of cars
Can be used to infuse a poet with psalms
Im reading these palms, that labor and toil
That grow stiff when old, then soften when spoiled
They map out a story, through sequence and line
One for me only, yet isn't it fine?
To share every memory, most one at a time
To replay the melody within our minds?
Theres a sea seperating both doing and trying
I've crossed once before, though it felt like dying
I'll do it once more, summon strength from afar
From the womb to the tomb,
From the Earth towards the Stars.
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