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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #1134829
This poem is about humans trying to play God when they can't fufil themselves.
The plank which holds the sea water,
is a ladder, unto which we walk,
When the tide reaches the sky, We float.
The tide ebbs, nurturing like a mother,
We source all life from within,
If ever there was a legend,
I would call it salt,
For if salt loses its saltiness,
What worth would it possess?
Life giving and taking,
Seems like chess.
And I wish not to take thee for granted,
But when my will sinks,
I try to be the plank.
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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1134829-The-final-role-play