Drifting, often aimlessly
Sometimes purposefully
Reaching, surging, navigating
Surviving
With waves that crash
Unexpectedly overboard,
With a mass of power
Sometimes manageable, other times with a force
So great
The boat soars up,
Into the air
Like a bird leaving the nest.
And in that moment
Free-falling
Everything is silent,
Calm
And in that moment
The chaos of the ocean, the upheaval
The torment,
The mindless meandering,
Can be forgotten,
Left behind.
And it is only in that moment,
That the beauty of the ocean can truly be understood.
(I wrote this a while ago but haven't posted it as I'm not too sure whether I'm happy with it. It's been years since I've written poetry, but I thought I'd give it another go. I'm aware it's different to my normal posts but I'm still finding my feet here in this little corner of the Internet I can call mine.
Thanks for reading as always)
A
xxxx
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