The Hand

He sat upon the stones as he watched the stormy waves upon the shores, as the cold wind brushed his cheeks...with a bright moon brimming through the night, and the shining stars to watch over him, He cried his thoughts away....he sat there weeping for he has felt a lost so terrible it was painful to keep. A pain of letting a person go when he was to hold on to those hands and never let go. As his bitter memories returned, he cried from the heart. was there hope to go on? was there another way? he broke down in solitude. In his own mistakes he fell into past, and in others mistakes he was to blame...the seas called, the seas wanted him...with all hopes broken he walked toward it, yet there he stood shocked, as his hand was held by another, what he saw made him realize that hope was always there...mistakes are made...mistakes are done, like the stormy waves they will subside, and as the cold night and gloomy moon the sun will show up. That hand was strong and it held him tight....it gave him comfort and gave him warmth. with a smile and an ease of heart...he walked back toward his destiny leaving his past behind with the tears he just shed. 


...YoGa...