The ripples, morphing straight to waves steadfast,
The mast of the boat drips palpable fear,
The sails, they swell and drop, failing to steer
The ship, toward the ground plummets the mast.
For two long years I tread until I see,
I see an island, dense with fruits and sand.
The island bears more fruit than I can stand,
I leave ethics behind; gorge heavily.
But as I gorge and feast as common man,
I realize that the island is much more
Than a rest stop, a place to rest my sore
And aching body from the pain I had.
I never saw the island until now,
Saw that I will never again drown.