Lacrimas Profundere

...and the waves sighed helpless
as the shore devoured them
the clouds which adorned the sky
so dark but beatyful
every stone, every stem
is all part of a picture
together they weave on the beholder
who takes the nature in and comprehend it
but this picture is different from human-eye to human-eye
though it will always be the same
bewitch me the perfume of a withered rose
which is actually dead but the perfume (and the beauty) are steady