Sunday, August 25, 2013

Sunt lacrimae rerum

In this sea of doubt and turmoil,
Of circulating storms and mischief,
I found myself on a discarded part of Eden,
Where the winds stop blowing
and the waves of sadness are getting drowned in themselves;
Where the confusion and anxiety of existance ends painlessly and peacefully.
There the Creator was resting,
Forcing himself in an unending slumber,
Leaving us  unfinished:
Too young for wisdom
Too old for bliss.

Is that why although we long for happiness,
We are letting go?
Even though all you need to fill one's heart
Is the sun, the ocean and a journey.