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The Panacea

By the sea he sat quiet and low,
Beholding the restless waves dance
With the winds, whimsical and free.
With utmost attention he tried to listen
To the stories of pleasures and pains
Whispered to his cold feet
By the dampened sand.
A small sand palace he watched
With a fluttering flag atop;
Having an essence of times;
Times that passed too swift.
He begged the waves to bring him back
In their next turn, his days
As a boy, playful as he was,
Young, innocent and unchained.
And the waves didn't break
The disappointment; He begged again
For one moment to cherish.
He knew his tears couldn't dampen
The sands more; Up he looked
And watched the thin line between
The sea, and the grandeur of heaven;
The reflection, and the true montage
Of coloured fissures amidst clouds majestic.
He wished to be taken
By the last ripple, to a place where
He could have the patience
To sit and watch; Where he could hear
The voice eternal and serene;
Where he could get a cure
Without struggle, of diseases,
All, Heavenly and Earthly; And where
He could know the relief
To the wounds irrecoverable
And indelible shades of agony,
Painted upon his once delicate skin
By the merciless time and age.

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