Flotsam As Treasure
by Odin Roark

So often the weathered shore of one’s existence
seems void of excitement’s frothy cap and crash,
receding waters of aged waves and breaks
seem but a lifetime away,
the taunting of one’s delusional dream wanting only to be forgotten,
its demise a relief from the smothering societal status quo,
media’s deeming of midlife doubt and guilt as negative,
when so much of experience’s jetsam is there as lessons.

There will always be passing currents,
ready to reappear within the next high tide,
and remind us…oh, how they love to remind,
that drifting water,
like yesterday’s wash is momentary.

Yet…

To have reached such a shoreline,
to have survived life’s many shipwrecks,
to know that trust of the inherent lessons
delivered by incessant undertows
slamming one against the rocks of reality,
then dragging one back to yet another chance awakening,
is but the cyclic nature of time and reason
until we get it.

Life’s ocean of layered insight,
strong, sometimes angry in the center,
begs listening to its many layers of cacophonous delivery,
asks to be heard and seen
to note its ebb and flow,
respect its crest and swell,
that often but tempting seduction,
that dastardly hubris in disguise.

It too is playful.

However,
Why do so many remain washed up on the sands of their own history,
drenched in the moisture of sentiment’s tear-logged emotions
self-loathing emotions drowning them,
willingly forfeiting future experience for no good reason,
other than…
defeat,
escape,
exhaustion?

Such beings unaware that to wait out the heavy seas of experience,
is Nature’s way of delivering us to a quaking shore willing to give respite,
to allow the rest so needed,
in order to awaken what’s left.

Wow!

Try and believe it’s just begun,
Life’s flotsam as treasure.