I went and took my sorrows,
My sorrows,
small and bleeding,
hard and lonesome,
dark and weeping.
I went and took my sorrows
and sealed them in a jar.

I threw them to the ocean
The ocean,
Wild and angry,
Deep and longing,
Old and joyful
I tossed them to the ocean
Which tossed them back to me.

Written on July 8th, 2007, at Ventura Beach, California.

Paper faces on the water
Barely leave us room to breathe.
Empty eyeholes staring out,
Floating, lonely, on the sea.
Crashing up against the shoreline
Rising, falling, till they break.
Rising up until we sink.
Falling down until we're free.

The Tide comes upon
The shore sweeping
Away the rocks and shells

The sun rises
Over the hills

The tide goes away
Leaving new shells
To be gathered

I stand here, feeling the water washing over my feet, watching the waves come towards me. The water is dark, making the crests of the waves seem even whiter. In the twilight, I can barely tell where the ocean ends and the sky begins.

I feel the sand shifting, moving as the wave retreats, changing every second. I dig my feet in, trying to make a mark, but the next wave comes and washes every evidence that I was ever there away. It is like the tide of life, relentless, always changing, unsympathetic to feelings and desires.