seeing through the water glass

There once was a man, who ran to the store. Who kept to himself only to be told he was a bore.  He only wanted to move about, yet, without a doubt, there was no destination for his route. If he cared to change it would only be unto himself, for in exchange we can only do this to ourself. So he began to strengthen his core, and his problem was not because he was poor, but a fate in the past. Resembling times that don't last.  Such as the sea of a gull, who soars for its spoils, remains the lulls of the loyals, as the oars of the boatman coils.