The waves come and go,
Leaping from the ocean, onto my feet,
And on some days I wouldn’t mind being
Swallowed whole by these towering
Waters, because it would be easier than
Fighting them, when I know being
Carried in the swelling ocean on the back
Of the receding waves would not be as hard
As getting my limbs to work when I see
The waves approach, because I do see it,
But there’s nothing I can do about it,
Except either giving up and handing
My limp body over to the icy waters, or
Trying like hell to rise above the waves, and
Getting my numb body to do what I ardently,
Deeply desire it to do, and that’s all there is to do —
Choose to be the rock the waves crash on, or
Choose to be the rock that the waves cannot touch.