Lost 

The fisherman who searched to be lostlived adrift in the greatest massiveness of Earth’s offers

He replaced his every worry with the flick of a pole,

Allowing the empty sea to feed off his sorrows

In the dark dismal emptiness

Completely unaware of the reality

of the eternal deepness

underlying his very own inconsequential presence

But he wasn’t alone

The company of an occasional whistle of a boat,

and the lighthouse blaze

Were his solemn reminders

of the beauty in the often unacknowledged

The ocean breathed his perpetual sublime

And the bracing wind craving his deliberation

At the verge of its every touch

Revived the fishermen’s most vivacious sensations

Reminding him of what it meant to feel alive

The salty aroma, his drug

And the invigorating breeze, his savior

The lone fisherman searched to be lost

And in that,

He was lost

And found himself

In his own presence

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