A poem simply sounds the bell, of that which words could never tell.


Tides never cease to come and go
Or draw back with a sigh,
Nor stays the peace,
My spirits flow
From sinking low
To rising high.
My heart
As if a pebble thrown
Caught fast upon that sloping shore,
First rolling up,
Then tumbling down,
Till a stone no more -
By waves that move too deep inside
To ever understand,
But prove me brave to never hide -
Just one of countless grains of sand.

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