Waves wash over you, full of 

Doubts and hopes from mind and heart

that drag and pull you,

Each its own story to tell.

Let them go, let them pass.

Like the leaves on a wintry tree,

Like the cocoon that would cling to an ordinary caterpillar,

Like snow on a summer’s mountain top.

For You are not this water,

You are the softness inside each rock,

the glimmer in the quietened room at dusk,

the morning sun glittering playfully on the waves.