People are like oceans,
each their own collection of
of currents and of waves,
thrashing and bashing
against wayward seas.

Some are intertwined,
and connected like straits,
others flow apart and alone,
their own self-contained sea,
a world within itself.

Some are calm rivers,
lazily flowing like the Mississippi,
others are rough and choppy,
bruising against the cliffs
and seabeds of the world.

Some are deep and dark,
with mysteries lurking in their depths,
like buried treasure or cursed ruins
others are more shallow waters,
their depths clear, clean, and pure.

No man is an island,
but we are oceans,
each with our own ships,
and waves, and currents,
and bays, and buoys that
shape and define our course.