I bore through the rough tides.
I swam to the land.
A deserted and tropical Island.
Where one needs to keep stronger paced  strides..
To Survive.
To keep sane.
Even when this hectic and unfamiliar   land tries you...
Until it kills your soul due to the empty rains.
Falling upon  the single one.
That's you...
on this land.
A deserted and tropic island.
Making tools out of rocks and sticks.
Creating A life boat..
to float you back to familiar shores.
Where you were not left a castaway alone....
to be left by yourself
In order  to remain alive.
Hope keeps you going.That's the trick...
Knowing you will make it back
To  home,once again, the thought of such
causes you to thrive.
Now you've set assail on your wooden craft.
Days on the waves rock you heavy and long.
Until the shores of your city are seen.....
You protect your supplies, hold your sail up high, and you remain strong.
Now the impossible has been beat.
Now comes the hard part...
Not to set back into the motions...
The ways that set you on a destination...as a castaway
on the seas to the Deserted and tropical Island in A Drift.
In thoughts that governed you to a hasty and quick run.
Thinking that not one
from which you had left behind
Back in your city
Had wanted you there.
Now, back into the city  lights you walk.
Where hands,all too  familiar, reach to grab and to hold onto you quit swiftly...
Now, you hold your wooden craft, as a masterpiece on display.
To mark the beginning to the ending of your journey.
To which your mind remains clear.
Avoids another lost trip...
Due to you seeing more than what your clouded and angry mind wished for you to see....
to open up your eyes and to see, so much more clearer...
The sun you have had all along....
Instead of making rains, in your soul, you keep in the rays of the sun.
To bask in a warmer and a much more gift-filled way.