I seldom picture myself at the shore
As a form of rehabilitation of my sanity,
But what good is a thought when you are unable to stitch it to reality?
No matter how hard I try to submerge my soul to that plane of clandestine paradise,
I will never get there.
My own peace,
My own renewal,
I won't find them at the shore
But at the midst of the ocean
The depths where I am borne
In the darkness of depression
In the symphony of anxiety
In the melody of fear
My truest friends appear
I did not know that emptiness itself
or even silence could be a loud noise too.
The rest that I quest for
Is in the darkness beyond the shore