The Call of the Sea

I drift through streets that never change,
Where the world is quiet, small, and strange.
Each step I take feels out of place,
A wanderer bound in a stagnant space.

Dreams crash like waves inside my chest,
Too wild, too vast, too ill-possessed.
They tell me to hush, to shrink, to stay,
But I long for the ocean, far away.

The harbor calls, its whispers low,
A pull I feel but cannot show.
Beneath the masts, my hands find grace,
And in the sails, my heart finds space.

The sea is a mirror, raw and wide,
No walls to confine, no need to hide.
The tide speaks truths the shore won’t hear,
Its voice is freedom, sharp and clear.

Each knot I tie, each line I cast,
Unwinds the weight of my shadowed past.
The wind becomes my loudest song,
A chorus of courage carrying me along.

Out past the break, the land grows small,
Its whispers fade; I hear them no more at all.
The open sea holds my strength, my claim,
In its boundless depths, I carve my name.

For here I am loud, here I am free,
A sailor of dreams on an endless sea.
And those who said I was too much to bear,
Have no voice out here, in the salt-filled air.

So to the dreamers with fire untamed,
Who feel unseen, who bear the blamed—
Find your ocean, your wind, your sky,
And sail to the place where your soul can fly.