Artist’s Point Serenity
In the time a wave might speak to my existence,
I do ponder the beauty of rush, in the crashing sounds of nature
With my pen I do recall a notion, a ponder, a special moment,
that I record today in the quiet silence of my mind.
For howsoever many lives have sought my same serenity,
in body long in nostalgia, of men, of women, of family now gone,
yet a spiritual mecca of artistry,
the freedom in kind of Artist’s Point.
So while the world beyond the sea continues in its revelry,
what might become of this time, my dream when standing by her wrath,
her allowance of me, the spectator, I do remember time,
in all of Earth’s essence I will regard, such is her elegant peace.