Poetry by Brianroy: A Field of view, in a winter season looking out to sea from the side of a hill.

I look across the ocean,
as it the cold winter waves rise and fall;
and the breeze blows stingingly upon my face and about my head,
and the melancholy of the moment yet brings tranquility.

The white and grey clouds blow across the deep blue skies,
as if great cotton balls and pilings of mist.
Sometimes looking like mountain ranges of the heavens,
sometimes, well...you get the jist.

What are these seasons for,
of life and dormancy?
Do they teach us something about ourselves,
and how we ought to live?

I behold the barren beaches and shorelines,
the jetties and the rocks.

I behold the once green and bending marshes,
now brown like dead grass and broken stocks.

What is the lesson here,
but that G-D is never to far or long away?

Though through times of sadness and suffering we must go,
there is always the hope of a better day.

And when that time comes, seize the moment and the hour;
apply the best that you can fairly and equitably,
or as much as you are granted in your power.

And know also, that your works too, shall zenith and fall;
and in another season, again you shall look back and recall.

Let there be no regrets, that honorably and faithfully you have done;
that looking back you might have blessed by your efforts to hold to a higher calling,
and in the remembrance, with fondness, be considered as having victories won.

Won not by violence or blood, but of the heart and the minds;
that to G-D mankind all may freely call through Jesus Christ the Son,
and to one another be thoughtful and kind.

But as I stand here, and now look at my watch,
I realize my feet are almost frozen and I am so cold;
and as I make for shelter and warmmth,
I can only hope that the best points are not forgotten in the heat of trying to do the right,
and that the best from me is always as new, and never as forgotten and old.