This life can throw you, in mysterious ways,
Toss you around with the weather, where your ships lie at bay.
Rough oceans meet the shore of your subliminal mind,
Where you’ve laid your trauma to rest and left it behind.

Water belts down from above, onto the graves of your past,
And washes away the tomb that you had formerly built to last.
Exposing thoughts and projections that you kept in disdain,
And flooding them back into reality to cause you pain.

In the wake of the storm, debris scattered amongst the shore,
Collateral to the life that you had once before.
At one time it seemed easy to build a fortress of stone,
But alas, you’ve come to realise that you can’t build it alone.

You meet someone peculiar, and with hope for a chance to reform,
Only to realise that to get to them, you need to venture back through the storm.
Accompanied by violence on your journey through the squall,
The inevitable odd flashes of doubt to where we’ll end up overall.

I know it’s hard to see the good through what seems like an eternal endeavour,
All I can promise you, is that storms don’t last forever.