Poetry that does not rhyme

is still worth the time

. . . . the turning point, the inflection point . . . . when the pain and the sorrow having reached a peak of intensity, are spent . . . .  the anguish finally stops, lifts, dissolves away . . . . and, for a passing moment you are numb, without feeling . . . . then peace and bliss flowers, blossoms up, wells up, like a fountain abruptly switching on . . . .

. . . . that delicious moment when the accumulated, built-up, excruciating, gnawing tension gives way to . . . . sweet, powerful, soothing (waves of) release . . . . and the spirit flies, soars free . . . . leaving the nagging flesh behind.

. . . . death is the release, the climax, the orgasm that frees the spirit of the prison house of the flesh. . . . why do we fear it so?

. . . . end of non-rhyming poem . . . .

 

We include these pictures from a cruise last year to Cabo San Lucas and Puerto Vallarta (previously posted, but very nice).

 

rocks at water's edge in Cabo 2

 

The timeless, ever restless sea lapping against the rocks and slowly, inexorably eroding these away beneath a long lived sun.

 

rocks at water's edge in Cabo

 

Rocks at water’s edge.

 

rocks at water's edge

 

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