Just, let it be.

Old man sitting alone.

Sitting on the cliffs of Pacific Grove and

you can see the Pacific Ocean forever.

Miles of the beautiful and powerful sea.

He write words into a black notebook.

Secret words into a book.

Words describing a grand life.

I bring him coffee and

he thanks me.

He read me a poem daily.

“Let it be

Humans are twisted.
In the midst of paradise.

Our mind’s race for reasons.
Not to be content.

Let it be.

We need to be thankful.

Hold your love one’s.

Dance and celebrate being alive.

Be content.
To have the chance to love someone.

Just let it be.

Swim in paradise.
Of the good times.
We can be together.

Tomorrow is not a guarantee.”

Coyote
8 May 2009