of course, not like i cant do simple poetry
the tides subside, and the winds are fine
it is time that surprise, the humanly kind
noone can see, what lies far behind
for it is the sea, which one must pass in kind
paths of sand, which one must tread
wishes to turn back, and thoughts of dread
the door is near, and time is scarce
whether to run in fear, is a choice of your own care
but behind the door, lies nothing to grieve
those who pass for sure, will be in peace