Stronghold.

Abounds a spin-cycle to scale as far as I see,
the visual assail of an everyday catastrophe…

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 pending battering…

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

with each time that I have wakened on a solitary beach,
happy as Hell to finally have solid ground under my feet…

every time these eyes of mine have peeled open to see,
surprised to find by my side, 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 say also, that it’s not a pumped-up play of show,
to hear the old-school talk 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.

Go ahead...say somethin'!

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