Weather boy

A good percentage of my life has been a constant pattern, 

I go through moon fazes strong enough to pull the tides.

 For some time I hate every ounce of myself then the waves crash against the rocks, 

washing off all the sand that's piled up. 

I can breath. Fresh linen and salt shores, 

maybe this isn't really joy, or ever permanent,but it's good enough for me. 

Is this the calm or the storm? 

-F.A.