Forgotten Freedom

I am chasing the forgotten freedom
along the curve of every stone,
these rocks that breathe, but not of air,
the salted scent, of my own despair.
Some days to be, the waves below,
of escape, for what I truly know.
This is not peace, nor is it harmony,
it is but truth's contorted hand,
that with each finger, rests my lie.
The sun, he shares my deepest low,
burying himself, to the waves below.

Author's Note

What can I say, I love the empathy of nature.

Reviews

[Simple_mee]

I liked the way the words used just seem so perfect! There is a certain flow and a depth to it! Great write again...

[cest la vie]

Nature has been given this most incredible power.. to love, heal, nurture, teach..
You have done a wonderful piece on those reflections..
Beautiful Gary.. simply beautiful

[An owl on the moon]

There is such a perfect flow to your words, moving, drifting us over those same stones... breathing in the scent of the sea... and in it all is a depth of life... a certain despair... hanging over... This was such an intriguing, gripping write.

[Jeannie Wilder]

And I must say you captured it. It rhymes very well ( and not in the overly used way )
I love nature, especially personified, it makes it all the more relate-able.