Go to college, work 9-5, pay taxes… this is adulting. When embracing adulthood, why do we often feel we can no longer create. Sometimes daily life has a way of reminding us to get over our own pity party. A radical wave took me out a while back thus hindering my attempt at a smooth Baywatch inspired exit from the ocean on a summer day. Below is a poem I wrote a while back after getting hit by a rogue wave following a gnarly workout:

The Atlantic

Gray skies reside above the ubiquitous Light

Sweet taste of salt, pungent delight

The chaotic mass of storms made known,

The swallow arises in skies unflown,

Along currents, waves assume their rhythm

Many flee the Atlantic in this status.

But I find comfort in the chaos,

Born of New England, land is prison

Take my soul across the currents and into the deep.

For it is the land on which I weep.

Enjoy! Get creative, stay weird!