The Straits of Cerebronica
Has destiny deprived us of our right
to surf the happy breaker for a while?
Must dips and hollows shade us from such light
as, oh so temporary, courts the smile?
The doldrums seem to idly pass in time
whilst wild elation rushes to the shore.
Must happiness be frowned on as a crime?
The odd crash to the cliff, then nothing more.
In truth, the timing of the tide eludes
the shipping forecast of the wayward soul
The sirens sing the lost Chopin etudes
the Loreleis will lure us to their goal
The power of the surge creates the peak.
Without that, could we ever be unique?
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