The soul upon the hill
Down at the water the tide churns as the world spins,
And the soul of the ocean yearns for the shade of the brim,
To cast a calming shadow on its face,
At last a welcome break.
The fish flutter desperate between the rolling stones,
And carry past the hour glass where the algae grows,
Not long till all the turbulence proclaims, loudly “you must go”,
… this turbulence we know.
Till one day comes a soul who sits down, still upon the point,
And everything changes.
The soul sits still upon the hill and slowly fills the lungs,
The soul counts ten, then once again, a temperate patience comes,
The soul repeats for hours three, until the breeze replies,
“Dear soul, I praise the way you’ve laid to calm the ocean’s cry”,
The breeze sits still upon the hill and slowly fills the lungs,
The breeze counts ten, then once again, a temperate patience comes,
The breeze breathes sun for twenty-one, until the water stills,
The ocean calms, the churn is gone, dear soul upon the hill.