The Barren Shore

The Barren Shore

Along the barren shore,

this old man watches the waves calmly.

Along that barren shore,

this figure sits steady,

in awe of the scene,

as though the sun's rays

still warm his skin.

His mind, a flooded canvas

of broken pieces and wonderful art,

none of them the main focus

in his heart.

It all just feels like the waves,

crashing over and over

at his core—

the sins of battles

lost and won inside.

The peace of mind

he craves the most.

As he ponders,

he sees them all—

those ghosts of the past.

He imagines different paths

and what could have been.

If all of it was worth it.

Did his present

justify the means?

If the love he left in the sand

would have blossomed at all,

would it have washed ashore,

or would a storm have turned

his world into disarray?

Was it worth it,

the gamble?

Would he have it any other way?

Along this barren shore,

this old man watches

the sun merge with the waves—

a beautiful sight in its own right.

Not on his deathbed,

but it feels eerily similar

to what it must feel like.

The lights glimmer in each wave,

like his life flashing by.

Every choice that he had made,

relived.

His body aches

with how it felt,

as though it were yesterday.

These echoes in his head—

bearded and bald,

his age since any of them was ripe.

Regret,

a beached boat,

he sits in.

The regret he reaped

from all the seeds

he had sown.

This old man watches the waves calmly,

with tears in each eye,

along his barren shore.

10/06/26✅

Fōns Vitae - “Fountain of Life”