Journeying along the seashore
Climbing to the summit of a tall cliff
Looking over the sea.
Saw in the distance
What I thought was a large ship.
I waited and waited
So long
In hope of seeing it
Enter the harbour,
But as the object on
Which I looked was
Driven nearer to shore
By the wind and waves.
I found that it could at
The most be a small boat
And, not a ship.
When it reached the beach
I discovered that it was only
A large faggot of sticks.
I thought to myself
I’ve waited for no purpose,
For after all
There is nothing to see
But
A load of wood.
Our mere anticipation
of Life
Outrun
its realities.
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