Futile Propulsion

One day left, meant to be spent
so far away from one's content:
A helpless way to spend a life
but yet forever shall we strive...

Life is never without faults
as well as never without perfection...
But who am I to talk of life?
and all of the following affection...

Kick your feet as much as you like,
Propel your arms as you may please;
But alas this effort comes to an end
as the raging waters tease.

Always whispering threats
and keeping to their surmise,
tangling, strangling,
all without compromise.

But is it really so bad, I wonder?
This vast expanse of expectations...
This sea that you have developed yourself,
your dreading and dreaded creation.

Optimistic theories sooth one's self,
as the sunlight engulfs and compells...
Life is life and you can't try to change that,
Even when this horrid sea swells.