Bashful Sun

Take it to the moon,
The way the ocean gleams and the way I cry,
Oh how the tears are truthful,
They speak my mind.

Deep down by the ocean shore there lays what was once a shell,
Now simply the water that it once emerged from,
Little else but shattered rock and the remnants of a cold past.

I don't believe in the rights of men among soldiers,
Yet I feel the ocean's tide may wipe away my sins,
And to me that is beautiful.

To WHAT corner shall I turn,
To what floor may I stand,
And before which wall will I break down.

For the hammer of my youth is all but depleted,
And I wait before the gleaming ocean tide,
I can't stand the sun.

Come back to me,
To a world of lesser known,
And be right with the apples of my past,
Taking with me the oceans.

Gift to me your evil,
That I may repent and build,
I fear the clouds offer little guidance.

Gleaming in the bashful sun,
Dying in the night.



Orginally Written on Oct 27th 2016


◄ Shallow Bends on a Wide Road

Dew on a pedal ►


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adrian metcalf

Mon 18th Sep 2017 18:27

Thank you for the kind comment, Martin! It means a lot. 😃

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Martin Elder

Mon 18th Sep 2017 09:41

I love the way you use the ocean to sweep away all of thos areas that it touches.
Nice one

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