by introspekdt123

without fear nor fame of tales or blister of a scheme
there is sit and wonder
where time seems to be adjusting in mill

with all purpose, most in definition and yet some imagination
there is what is spat and put asunder
the ideal that every wave eventually meets a hill

a prayer of sorts
and meditation of the helpless but full in sight of this world
she continues to introduce her pattern
where lines meet swirl