I gazed out on the water today,
and I watched as the storms that had gathered at bay,
Beat relentlessly upon the sand-laden soil,
And thanked them for their toil.
For in the years that have come and passed,
I have learned that somethings do not last.
Others are for naught than to change your past.
I have loved.
And I have rejected it's return, shoved.
It was a thing, on a midnight dreary.
Unfortunately love does make one weary.
I have loved, but the love i felt one midnight dreary,
Was cast off, in a syrette bleary.
I can hate myself for the demon of days departed,
Or love myself for the forgiveable fleshly fighter I emerged.
As these waves hit the sand laden soil,
From the Storm's tremendous toil,
I came to realize that no change, benign or baneful,
Happens without being meaningful.