March 25, 2026

Seashells line the shore

No clear place to walk

The beauty of the sea, the sharp under bare feet

The winds whisper to me: "It's Time."

It's time to leave these shores

Time to go explore

Time to lift the anchor out of the past

And follow the compass North

Take a deep breath

Heartbeat steady

A new horizon awaits

Time to lift the anchor of the past

And leave the shell-lined shore

Hope lies ahead

Chase the horizon

It's Time

-R.P. 2026