Man has sailed through greater storms.
under emptier night skies.
weary hearts casting doubts,
As a roiling ocean swarms
Does it always get to win?
This damned sea.
Can it take from me, what I refuse to give?
My life, my will to fight again?
I will not wash away
or be blotted from the Earth.
I’ll bottle up what’s left of me
Trust that it still has worth.
The water’s not yet in
the wood inside’s still dry.
But I smell each salty warning,
and I hear each wave’s foul cry.