Fucke

I have seen you on many faces. We know we will find you between our places. I would have expected you to be absolute and clear. One and glaring that it hurts for without, it is never real. Let it ripen into full blossom and gather then its gleam. We were contained in a bottle, drifting through Atlantis. The tides decided yet not to meet its time. She sings to us the songs of salt water. Brim of her tide preach patience and perseverance. And when the sun rises from the horizon, Its beauty promises greatness of what we will find, With you between our places.