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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