Precipice of Worlds

Stuck on shores of racing tides,
ahead lay crystal waters,
with skies clouded with probable storms; unseen.
But when the waters are at ease,
life passes, gently, caresses, harmonic, all is at peace.
If a hurricane barrels through,
somewhere, there is promise of calmer waters.
Sailing out and away from the angry sea, may, will
cause damage to the maiden,
the ship; but, elsewhere is calmer waters.
Should you, as captain, choose to ride out and fight
the stormy weather, eventually
storms do pass,
ship and sea will sail on, swim or sink,
together.
Behind you, what is closer,
you stand upon a sanded beach.
It lays calm, steady, reliable, never changing.
A constant.
But the sun rises, and sand heats quickly,
burning your toes.
Along the stretch of bay, all the sand is hot,
there is no relief, until
you step on shore, onto the sand, cooled and wet from the tide
of that beckoning sea.
The sea changes the edge of the shore,
rushing against it, then easing away,
leaving its familiar patterns,
erasing past footprints.
The sand calls for you, to lay with it.
Calm, forget anything else, just lay.
It is lonely, warm and bare from tourists.
No one knows it's beauty and serenity,
apart from you.
It belongs to you alone.
A comforting thought.
Should you choose this sandy haven,
and ever change your mind,
climbing, barefoot, up hot sands,
each step inclines, and your feet sink, slightly.
The sand is dragging you back,
begging.
Causing more effort to climb from its sandy clutch,
and it is easier, to just stay behind.
Attempt failed, effort forgotten.
So for now, take off your sandals.
Walk along the wetted sand, between worlds.
The sea may have a high tide, now and then,
and wash away your path,
but you won't be caught up in hurricanes,
and your feet are sweetly cool.
It may not be beautiful,
but perhaps it is best, for now,
to be indecisive.