The Storm

Was there ever a place the storm had not been?

The storm shrouded everything. 

The sea's azure peaks and emerald valleys 

Always smothered by an array of greys. 

 

The storm always rages, quiet to all but one.

The fisher can feel the tempest's screams.

Sharpest when the ocean itself is hushed.

Those howling winds haunt his dreams.

 

Was this journey really worth the horror? 

Demons too much for the explorer?

With no where or man to turn,

He'd leave his vessel at sea to burn. 

 

Then, A flash of lightning!

The fisher saw Poseidon's hand itself!

The storm was stilled, the ocean turned glass

A man reborn! Though, sadly his same social class. 

 

The fisher now battles the swells,

He harnesses the ocean's pull, and pushes back himself. 

The storm still thrashes and never will submit,

The fisher clings with all his might to prove

That he can overtake it!

He now knows the storm, 

He knows well, he cannot change it

But, he no longer fears the storm,

For he has seen Poseidon make it. 

This poem is about: 
Me
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