The House on the Shore

the seagulls call
the tower’s tall
the ocean wild
his spirit mild.
quiet dreams
the kettle screams
the sun comes up
he fills his cup.
and sweeps the room
without a broom
no fuss or fight—
he keeps the light.
in storm, the glow
will let them know
those seeking docks
find only rocks.
the sun goes down
but none will drown
while darkness prowls
and north wind howls.
the sand is clear
to never hear
another voice—
it’s his own choice.
the sun comes up
he fills his cup
the sun goes down
no one will drown.
the shadows turn
and he will learn
what silence is
to lives like his.

ocean dark and wild.
wrecked and beaten up.
guided to his light.
at the door She Knocks.



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