The world spins and staggers
We grab the side hold the mast
Hoping this storm is not all we will ever be
Time’s torrents toss us waveward
As skies fall sideways.
All is salt and all is sea and self is not
Even a speck of land on the horizon
Grasped only in prayers.

To live all hands on deck
Asks for palms cut by rope cleaned by salt
Splintered purpose filled.

To live ready to rage the winds we must steer ships to the hopeland
Dare rocks that maim body and soul and sink sailors with unfazed gravity.
The reward of rushing waves
Drowning us may be the best light dawn can bring
But there is the grand possibility of a poise of wind and calm
And the deepest blue rushing
Towards that thin green line we have sought
As home where the fires of tomorrow always burn.