When the earth touches the water,
and soaring height meets with extreme deep,
I fail to think of anything, but my own inconsequence.
It is as though Earth and Ocean
outlined some perfect design,
to keep my humility drawn
In the horizon’s line.
24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
When the earth touches the water,
and soaring height meets with extreme deep,
I fail to think of anything, but my own inconsequence.
It is as though Earth and Ocean
outlined some perfect design,
to keep my humility drawn
In the horizon’s line.