A lake and a life alike,
Still water flows on an everyday basis.
He lives an unvarying lifestyle,
Surrounded by tongues that speak ill.
The water flows with constant purpose,
As the sun hits the horizon.
A life thought with no meaning,
He knows he is alone on his travels.
The ground under the sky shifts,
Wind lays reckoning through the trees.
Grown weary of his path,
Decisions to alter this existence surface.
Stones torn from the dirt impact in the water,
Ripples echo along the plain of blue.
Fire in his eyes as he stands from the crowd,
He turns and paces himself for the world outside.
Disrupted from the standard formation,
In new directions the streams correct.
Headed for no destination important,
His family applauds his strength and soul.
With a different purpose,
Water traverses new dominions.
He looks to the sky as the sun hits the horizon,
Chilling breeze hits his skin.
Calm again,
The flow has relaxed in its new style.
Now he is free to find a true purpose,
Just as the water in the distance had.
Under the golden horizon.
-Atlantic