Sipping wine and sitting by the quayside
The old man gazes out to sea
Eating bread and sitting by the quayside
He waits so patiently. Though ships may come and ships may go
My mind screams for freedom
Like a fox in a snare.
As I struggle and gasp gulping for air.
Though my tears may fall wasted
From deep in the forest
The mighty tiger roars, endlessly
Picking his way from one glade to another.
But wait, ahead could this be open ground?
The future is the present, if we but knew it;
For to experience a moment in your delicate existence,
Be not afraid to submerge to a depth
Only to surface with the wisdom of both grief and gladness.