Abounds a spin-cycle-esque ocean beneath me,
an aquatic tornado stripping sand up from the deeps…

tumbling breakers that beat my sorry ass mercilessly,
undertakers in numbers washing out from the beach…

a beautiful thing is the foreseen inevitability,
of resigning in mind to the body’s battering…

the best lessons in Life await us out past the swells,
a beach bum notion that I’ve come to trust well…

with every time I’ve awakened confused on a beach,
just happy as Hell to have solid ground under feet…

and every time I opened these eyes of mine to see,
to be taken by surprise by a creature twice the size of me…

I’ll tell you my friend; it lacks any ease of “inland”,
it chews you, and spits you – and swallows you, then…

let me tell you also that it’s no dramatically worded show,
to hear the revered explain the dangers of riding out “solo”…

I’d dare say that the ocean is a secret untold,
even to beach bums raised up on in her stronghold.

One thought on “Stronghold.

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