The lake shore showed beauty
direction of hope
thru wind of changes
I wander nomadically from sand to sand in search of meaning
Dreaming but awake.
Fleeing nothing in particular, yet running to an open door
to see myself answer on the other side.
The seagulls need to be fed I assume incorrectly,
as if they are hungry for knowledge or providence
Today I can not tell the difference.
Yet I eat, I assume they do as well.
Sun, ah my sun, wife to my light
Inner recognition to the quest buried into my psyche
Probably by psyche herself I giggled.
I see the yellow hue cascading towards a pouting lip or 2
as my love for Sunna, causes a erect respect
She is pure soul.
No seashell to talk to
So I continue to walk.
The lake hints
The door is near.
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