When his P.T.S.D yields once more,
He Returns from some dark isolation,
Like a wrecked Sea-Dog reaching the shore.
Back from the desolate ocean,
He shakes salt, sweat and dirt from his clothes,
With a mind full of poetic notions,
He’s determination to open new doors.
No more is the fog in this haven,
New light is now reached by his soul,
His spirit soars high like a Raven,
And embraces new tranquil control.
