All has its hue
Of the things that make it true
At our horizons rest treasures new
So great yet seen by few
All has its beauty
The noise,
the silence,
Like the waves when they are high and low
All has its time
Be it a push or a pull
Everything falls in its place
The picture, eventually becomes clear
All wait on something
Be it a beautiful desire
Or a gruesome fear
A man’s anxiety is his path to ruin
So embrace what is
And not what was
As the tide comes and fades
Every beautiful moment will soon become a memory
~Mystic Wanderer
Mystic Wanderer 