The Gulls Bicker about the Over-head sun,
In lieu of something Fearful.
The Coarse sand glistens and Reflects in the sun,
Its light, piercing my eyes,
The past is done,
On the Oceanside the truth lies.
The air hurls warm winds of your deeds,
Whispering only to you,
It can only be true.
The ocean side, is where truth resides.