The place to be is here-the coast
hearing the whoosh of the waves weave in and out
without concern or care

I call to the ocean as if it is mine- I can organize
I try to control tides, but their moon is stronger

The moment to let go is now
listening to the whoosh of the waves weaving in and out
people forget how to care

I want to accomplish a sandcastle
I try to put sand in a solid structure,
but sands of time are timelessly shapeless

The thing to know is this
deaf whooshing waves weaving in and out
have no ears for my wants

Fine. If it doesn't care, neither will I
I try to keep cool, but the fiery sun still burns

The person to forget is me
feeling the whooshing waves weaving in and out
that have met generations without care

I am no different

With the existence of but a megapixel in the big picture,
I except changing tides

peace prevails as I
care for the whooshing waves weaving in and out
that can't help their nature