I drift, a river restless, wide,
Carved by time, yet pulled inside.
Bound to banks that held me tight,
Yet drawn beyond their dwindling sight.

The wind hums secrets to my skin,
A song of loss, a song of kin.
The waves that call, the stars that guide,
Whisper change—yet fear resides.

I crash, I twist, I rise, I fall,
A roaring flood, a whispered call.
Melancholy pools in me,
But so does fire, wild and free.

The ocean waits with open hands,
Unmeasured depths, untrodden sands.
Am I dissolving? Am I whole?
Or just becoming something more—

A sky, a storm, a silver crest,
The river vast within my chest.
No longer lost, not yet complete,
I am the flow, I am the deep.