Maybe my life,

Is also a pattern,

Repeating itself, ...

Some things,

Appear out of place.

I used to judge, ...

Today’s clear skyline,

Wasn’t what it seemed,

For inside was foggy, ...

To be at one,

With the sea.

For some, ...

A blue canvas,

White brush strokes,

Painted by fingers, ...

Sometimes flowers,

Hold tightly onto trees.

I need the strength, ...

A vine-covered tree,

Finds it hard to breathe,

Yet graciously accepts, ...

Mornings,

Are my best time.

When waters are calm, ...

A wet nose,

Eyes seemingly closed,

Wagging its tail, ...

Embracing irregularity,

Is an arduous climb.

Irrespective of my desire, ...

Estrangement,

To stand out,

Struggle with oneself, ...

To transform,

Like a dandelion,

Is a dream. ...

A man once said:

“I’m like mustard.A little is tasty, ...

Silhouetted,

Distant mountains.

I recall them well. ...

If I could choose,

I’d rather smile.

Yet it is hard, ...

Faceless,

Nameless,

Unknown. ...

Fight to survive,

Or deliberate steps,

Along life’s fickle path. ...

Often,

There is no meaning,

In rare patterns seen. ...

Windows,

Come in many forms.

But those, ...

To understand,

I step back,

Looking around, ...