Posted in Current Affairs, Literature, Memoirs, Nature, Philosophy, Poetry, Relationships, Religion, Science, Society, Travel, tagged abyss, afar, again, age, ancient, blue, break, canyon, change, chase, circle, colorless, cycle, deep, distinct, drip, drop, echo, endless, expand, fall, gorge, heard, inner, life, little, long, memoir, only, paths, patterns, placid, poem, poetry, rage, river, roar, roll, seen, shore, silence seem, slice, sound, still, stir, stretch, thunder, universe, voice, water, waterfall, wave, weather, yet on February 15, 2013|
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Water drop in my universe,
echoes from afar becoming distinct
sound. Drip, drip, drip
circles expanding colorless
and still blue. Little waves
breaking long stretches
of silence seemingly placid.
Roll. Roar. Rage. Stirred deep
from the abyss chasing the shore.
Falling endless in a waterfall
like inner voice thunders
slicing the river into gorges
and deep canyons. Ancient
ages and weather change
patterns and paths, yet
only to be heard and seen
the cycle of life again.
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Solitude Amidst the Maddening Crowd
