The Storm, it Weathers Ye? ⸮eY srehtaeW ti ,mrotS ehT

To steer through this storm would not be wise of thee,

To cast your sail in these winds would capsize ye,

To brave the cyclone ahead, it doesn't care; this "Sea",

It will dine on travelers from all corners verily,

'Tis the God's favor that maintain the bow,

'Tis the tools of the voyager that keep the stern endowed,

'Tis the plight of sanity to await the retreat of clouds,

To dream of Dawn, but not long for its kiss, is the helmsman's key unavowed,

If thy ship does plunge into the deep, ye may find thyself asleep,

If ye do awake in a new place, 'tis just reality's shade, do not weep,

If ye can't find shore in the confluence, look in still waters, it's echoes do seep

Do not venture too far, the reward for this journey ye may not want to reap,

All ports lead to a "Sea", each like the last,

All charts map themselves and refuse to mark the past,

All directions point North and leave South aghast,

Where there is home there is clarity, but your roots are still on land,

Welcome to your new home: ship, waves, and mast.