Across the bridges it moves, way beyond the grasp it slithers. <br />too nice and smooth. Only ever does it slithers. <br /> <br />To the writhers it cools, and yet, to the happy it fools. <br />To the weepers it helps. and never maketh you yelp. <br /> <br />It is vast, it is clear. It is open, nothing mere. <br />It is the shore of joy, way too coy <br />It springs on you, making you its slave, <br />Making you wish it stays permanently, in your cave. <br /> <br />Like an ocean at rest it waits, waiting for the right time, <br />to show what it is, till the right moment, mates<br /><br />pablo picasso<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/shores-of-joy/
