But that is ok.
Because the music is still playing and I can hear the waves. I can hear the splash and the crash, the cacophony of being alive. Despite everything.
Perhaps I am glad that I am still here?
And one day, as I float. Carried by Poseidon to new places and people. I can think back to the times I was on land and wonder why I wanted to stay there. Rooted.
Why would I be a tree when I can be a boat?
Finding my Way 