Being tough, being soft, being still
Wave after wave, the Ocean wrestles with a rock Revealing its shades under the setting sun The froth, the mist, and the cocktail of colours, never the same Oh, see how similar my own mind’s ocean is Splashing on random encounters life presents The mind’s waves roll with no fatigue Look, the froth and the shades that never repeat Shining under the ever present, the unborn Love, accomplishment, despair, joy, sorrow, and all other shades Rise like mist on the rocks, then fall and mix with the froth Recede, turn dark blue, then swing back, and turn something else What remains, what is mine, I do not know Being tough, I wonder Is to be the rock, or the wrestling water? Or even to be the unborn that is aware? The best it appears to be the least tired among all