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Me the Ocean


As I sit and stare at the Ocean,

My mind then becomes its motion.


So absorbed do I become,

No feelings, no cares, only numb.


We are happy when I arrive,

When we part emotions dive.


Part of me is left to grieve,

Each time that I must leave.


Each year do I leave part of me there on the sandy shelf?

Or each year am I returning to myself.


Soon there will be nothing to return,

For it will have consumed all of me.


Or will I be complete?


©2006Kent E Omer

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