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
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