The Unfolding Map

I began as a coastline, newly drawn,

Where every shell was a discovered star,

And the ocean, with its endless, sullen roar,

Was a lullaby, and nothing more.

The world was a whisper against my skin,

A story I had not yet learned to win,

Written in the language of rain and light,

In the fierce, brief terror of the night.

Then, I was a river, swift and deep,

Carving through canyons, too steep to sleep.

I pulled at my banks, I challenged the stone,

Determined to make my way alone.

I was current and clash, a furious flood,

Churning with passions, not understood,

Seeking the ocean, yet fearing the sea,

A restless and hungry thing to be.

Now, I am a valley, wide and still,

Holding the echo of every hill.

The weather has passed, the furious gales,

And left me with patience, and intricate tales.

My forests are rich with the growth of the years,

My soil is soft with forgotten tears,

And the river that raged, now quietly flows,

Reflecting the peace that the wise heart knows.

And I will be a mountain, against the dusk,

A silhouette, a fundamental husk.

Worn smooth by the wind, a majestic form,

That has weathered the calm and ridden the storm.

I will watch the new coasts, the rivers run free,

And know that their journey is also me.

For the map never ends, it just finds a new shore,

And love is the legend it's written for.

By: Article Writing Master