My Mind is a small boat, Eager to search distant seas, But my Thoughts are a hurricane Stealing happiness from me.
The rain pelts my flesh, Like blubbering tears do to linen I cower in the hull, My soul unfairly a prison.
I tremble at death - There is no escaping these swells. The wind bellows my blunders And tears my poor boat at her sail.
Please don’t let this be the end! And the heart seems to listen She softens her drops As if asking to be forgiven.
And the waves begin to calm The haze is subsiding, I steer my boat Eastward, In control of my own guiding.
I look out at the plain, Its flatness refreshing And until the next storm, My focus solely on progressing.