“At the sunrise,
The ancient tide
Is my only friend,
Listening to me cry,
Way too many times.
The ancient tide still tries
To teach me to loosen my ties
Wherever in the world I might
Find myself struggling to hold on too tight.
To let go would mean nothing,
If the aftermath wasn’t the real fire,
Reducing me to heartache and ashes,
I still need to learn to put off with my axes.
And whenever the ancient tide
Laughs at me for my lack
Of patience and rhyme,
I remember that storms at sea
Still welcome the most patient of streams.
I may be hurting, but I’m still growing,
I may be burning, but I’ll be a flower
Blooming from the ashes,
And I will ease my every storm
By sailing onto calmer waters.”