By the sea
Like meteors, my thoughts collide,
then fragment into fiery stars.
A whole thought is not often found,
nor is one that does not have scars.
I have tried to corral these stars,
but burned my hands in the process.
Iíve found that after all these years,
the pain grows greater, no, not less.
Perhaps, because the deck is stacked,
an ideal life is hard to find.
Some stumble as the years race by.
I stumble also, but in mind.
Within these stars and scars of thought,
there is much beauty to be seen,
much peace and joy to be found,
from sea oats to a meadow, green.
I am an artist, brush in hand
and paint what my life is to be.
The canvas was supplied by God.
He said the scene was up to me.
[This message has been edited by Auguste (02-13-2003 07:49 PM).]