Perception - Part 2

6/3/95

From here.
On the shore.
The Sea looks rough.
Mighty waves are breaking.
Small gulls fly above,
filling the air with their
mournefull crying.

Up here,
on the cliff,
the sea looks kind,
and flows to the Horizon without a care
in its mind.
Down there, tiny gulls are circling
and filling the air with
their happy hunting song.

In there,
plunged down the depths,
the air is frigid and dank.
Little life or sound,
Too many hopes have sunk.

An old fish crawled
from the tomb,
to the shore;
and preferred the life he saw.
In time he bored and moved
on and up,
and was much gladdened by life,
once more.