Each shocking individual,
And their ever changing sea.

There are times in which it is quiet,
The iridescent waves lap softly
Against the tranquil coasts.

There are times in which it is joyful,
A sunny day lazed upon
A perfect, golden beach.

There are times in which it is melancholy,
A perpetual overcast
Followed by a drizzle of rain.

There are times in which it is vengeful,
Water angrily pounds the land
In sync with the raging storm.

Many thoughts float across it, like boats
They travel with no definite direction
Only a sense of opportunity.

Some find themselves lost
While others simply forgotten
Drifting slowly along the subconscious.

However, there is the offhand chance
That one might find port.