why do i not accept that
when something leaves my life
it is always for something new and fresh to enter.
like the freshness of the morning ocean breeze
after a warm,sultry night.
like the sight of a morning sun
gentle and soothing as it
rises behind the dank and dirty shanties.
like the beautiful crimson sun
as it dips into the sea
after a hard and tiring day.
like the soft sounds of the ocean waves
amidst the cacophony of noises
why cannot i let go and be free?
Written in not so lucid moments of mental disarray