The long journey toward inner calm I set sail with anchors rusted, Pulled by tides I never chose, Past memories that screamed like gulls, Through storms that never froze. My compass spun with broken truths, A heart that cracked like glass, Each wave a weight of old regret, Each breath a shadowed past. I chased horizons, always fleeing, Haunted by the man I'd been, The scars I wore were lighthouses Warning others not to swim. The sea spoke back in whispered thoughts, Of pills, of rage, of knives, Of nights I sank in silence deep, And begged to trade my life. But somewhere past the jagged reefs, A stillness found my chest, Not all at once, but soft, like dusk A fleeting kind of rest. I learned to row with gentler hands, To sit with guilt and shame, To not outrun the echoes, But to slowly speak their names. Now peace is not a paradise, Nor perfect, calm, or pure, It’s the quiet in the chaos, A footstep on the shore. And though the ocean’s still behind me, And sometimes calls me back I’ve found a place the winds don’t own, And light cuts through the black.