The gentle tides never gave me a thrill,
It was always the loud waves that made me feel.
I do not long for soft breezes,
I find calm when the wind howls, when it rips through the branches and scowls.
The sun on a gentle day feels like a mask,
Yet, the moon in its loneliness conveys tranquility, as it matches my ache to find liberty
And, while blossoms are delicate, I reach out for thorns,
Because, even roses should know pain.
They once adorned.
Perhaps peace was never my destination – the storms would pull me forward.
And, if this is chaos,
Then I will stay, for I have finally found my home.
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