It was cold and a blizzard was moving in,
The mood had dropped 10 degrees.
As the dust settled, the trees ceased to move,
It was motionless and still.
Sitting in depression, abhorred at the world,
Oppressed by my own faulty memory.
A wise man came by, from a distance I spied,
To lift the glumness from I.
When the wise man arrived, his eyes on the prize, he cast a gaze over the illusion,
“All of this, you see, is rested in me and equally within yourself”.
Speaking in riddles, with a lilt so empirical, the wise man motioned to the door,
with a tunic of white, stark against the night he spoke of a world so flawless.
I found myself trapped, between the wind and the wise man,
Unaware of what would come next,
the sound of the sea, so relaxing and coarse,
“It’s the energy that drives us through”.
Down past the beach, along past the pier,
Lay a scene of serenity and beauty,
As he stated, against the raging wind,
“The world is beautiful, this you should know. The beauty is in everything you see”.