There are times when I cannot see the future
Even though it is how I stay afloat
When the waves are too high and skies too dark
I feel like I’m going to die
There is no more blue to reflect upon the ocean
For the appearance of Bahaman shallows 
Just dark choppy water barreling straight towards my tumultuous heart
I wish I was a meteorologist or a skilled sailor
The deep blue should not be traversed alone 
But often I shield my watches from the tsunami 
For fear they will have seen too much 
I’ve been swallowed by the tide one too many times
You’ll notice my salt-soaked clothes the following morning
But there’s this furious gust of wind within me
That is ready to catch a sail and move forward
Because this sailor is wind blown and sea sick 
And can never go back again or they shall perish 
And make friends with a buoy.