I was born to a dying glacier.

My mother melted on me, never could firmly embrace me.

Said my daddy was a snow-capped mountain, and my sis a valley.

They separated, relocated to different hemispheres.

Turns out my pops had a head to clear.

A life to rewrite, bout time some human come by and name him something great.

Little does man know, they gave my father an undeserved fate.

My mother sitting in a pool of her blood mixed with strangers’,

Tells me to adventure, to view myself a little bit braver.

Me being foolish and only viewing the abandoned vastness of the sea,

The road to be, the vision of my mother’s future, her condition in which I would leave.

Yet she pushed and sloshed what will I had,

And the concurring thought was that I ought not make her sad.

With my grand-pop Stone’s compass I sailed,

It’s sand-filled lining was grainy but truthful,

It had a way growing on you like my grand-pop’s moss did in his last days.

He became confided to a cave filled with man’s origins,

Feeling more at home with beginnings rather than endings,

For he knew Granny Tree Limb was awaiting eternity with him.

Along my journey of finding, I tended to lose more things than gained,

My uncertainty and fear of sinking were slowly slipping their grasp on me.

So now I flee a land of water, of vital blood that held my mother together,

I’m searching for a less permanent home than death but a more study residence than bliss.

I’m sure to miss the keys of life my grand-pop devised as he built this here compass on which I base not only my direction but existence in this ever-growing emptiness they call the sea.

But the love crafted within this device still shines; it beams bright in the sunlight.

Still, why not sink into desolation, especially when the only love you’ve encounter is from the deceased?

Well, Because of the sister bedded between two tall towers of rock I’ve never seen.

Because of the wife I know will accept me even though I haven’t.

Because of the children that will inherit the best of us along with our bad habits.

Because I can’t let go until my mother passes, until my father slaps his forehead in self disgust for he did not do what he had must: … stay with the only love south of this atmosphere.

And now I’m here, wrecked by bullies inhabiting the shape of waves.

They crash into me because they care, care for one thing: to cease my journey,

But they’re just demons and they’re pleading to their master to release them on good behavior.

And they’re trapped kind of like me, they see their goal but the steps towards it are infinite.

I’m not walking on water no longer, and I’ve found swimming to be thicker,

These levels of ocean on my body, no one will find me, I’m about to be sucked under.

In this a dire time of struggle, the fire blazing my worn heart alerts my sister.

Yeah, my sister, the landmark who only knew the land, took a trip to sea, and wouldn’t you believe: found my hand.

I had let go of my life after the demons’ strike, my will sunk to the bottom.

But the baggage my mind sought to look after turned out to signal my sister, and today I live by the grace of my old, old man’s compass.

Now you could dislike fairytales, and never believe in bedtime stories,

But promise me that one day my mother will go down in history.

That her tear-wrapped commands to me will live in infamy,

“Dear Son, life hasn’t been too kind to you, it hasn’t yet revealed its truth,

But there’s a world of love donors, and they don’t run dry,

They like to find, find lovely doves like you.

So now go out and show the fearful lovers that this flood is almost over.

This is not the last you’ll hear of me, for I’ll send a banner not of letters but of colors picked out just for you.”