John Arnold Siena   I have seen its recklessness In the waves of the storm Riding in the crests, Tumbling on the shore, Bruised, but never vanquished. But now I see it from the mountains Of my adulthood Where visions are bleary Amidst the mist of the past, Lingering, evading the touch Of the fingers of memory Trying to grasp. And now, nothing, nothing remains there Save some strands of silent remembrances That connect life to life

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