Unseen Tides of Becoming

I wonder in the quiet of the waves, if dreams I hold are real as waters deep. The path I walk—was it ever mine at all, or am I drifting, caught in currents’ flow? I am both sailor and the storm’s dark face, the one who steers yet fights against the pull. I lift myself yet fall, as tide allows, and love holds light that fades like salt’s harsh sting. Each wave pulls forward, back a paradox, my compass spinning wildly, though I steer. I drift, I grind, I grow, a force unknown, the face I glimpse a stranger's, veiled in night. These waters hold both fury and release, a restless churn, a voice beneath the waves. I push myself to rise above, yet still the ocean calls, “Is this all you would be?” But in each wave, I’ve ridden, storms I’ve braved, I see both beauty, burden, bound as one. Peace lies not in the sea’s retreating edge, but in the calm, I carry from within. I am both broken and yet made anew, a mosaic of shores both lost and found. The weight feels lighter now that I can see this journey was my own to chart and own. I walk forward, no longer cast adrift, a captain, not of calm but of my tides. The storm now whispers, waves a memory, and in the quiet, I find my own true north. For every wave I’ve braved, I hold a light, and step, not timid, but steady, to shore knowing I am both tide and timeless stone.