Oceans and tides; oh to see the lines of time

A clear glass from the inside; sands to the days of our lives

It pushes and pulls, washed in a before and after
children alongside running under the sun—a teared laughter

We are young and wild as the sea;
a moment we feel alive, and free —seasonal highs and lows
time is young and moves slow. But it will eventually grow

Hurricanes, and cyclones on the wayside, I see destructive eyes

A man is wicked by his pride; to prize what some despise
never to admit fault to it's mind. Oh never mind!

...his land is home, a poem
unheard clearly in the distance of ocean birds
Would you prefer us as lakes, but it's late to see
every man is deeply drowning in their own seas

Is he free, or swims endlessly
till they can't swim no more
            oh who really knows