Untitled - Campbell University

The Place Our Race Began
What’s this that falls below my cheek, a salty water tear
That when it lands upon my chest, my life is void of fear.
A gentle breeze, amongst the trees, does push the waves aground,
And then it chose, I do suppose, to ripple through the sound.
The time we spend, along wit’s end, is shallow at its high,
A thousand spies, with watchful eyes, will likely catch me cry.
A life of seat aghast the sand, is not moved by the wind,
Unless my rest, be put to test, and tidal waves roll in.
Whatever blooms upon the sand, is likely made of gold,
Poseidon’s reach, consumes the beach, his fingers wet and cold.
Until, in time, a year goes by, will see the beach again,
Then finally, we all will see the place our race began.
And if by chance, the circumstance, decides to be our end,
Then finally, we all will see, the place our race began.
—Solomon “Sully” Goetz
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