Sonnet 42, Every Word Has Billows

Every word has billows and waves of sea, Longitude towards open cloudily mist; The branches that grow embellish a tree, Soul of inner enigma and a twist. Beautiful words echoes to futures ahead, Gives all the longings - to want to write still; Waves from the pen will never become dead, If you can see the dream - over the hill. Though glasses lie shattered among the few, And roust's the way with nature and vital force; It's up to the spirit inside of you: Where lies the future and destiny course? Yes write well and read - never be speechless, For to tomorrow will someday come fresh.