Shores Of Joy Poem by pablo picasso

Across the bridges it moves, way beyond the grasp it slithers.
too nice and smooth. Only ever does it slithers.

To the writhers it cools, and yet, to the happy it fools.
To the weepers it helps. and never maketh you yelp.

It is vast, it is clear. It is open, nothing mere.
It is the shore of joy, way too coy
It springs on you, making you its slave,
Making you wish it stays permanently, in your cave.

Like an ocean at rest it waits, waiting for the right time,
to show what it is, till the right moment, mates