Peace in Storm’s Way

 

I traveled the wide expanse of my trouble seas

Upon a ship fashioned together by northern pine

Forms that struck the skeleton gunwales;

Standing the phantasmal forecastle

Of good intentions and high desire.

 

Three solitary Carolina timbers

Pivot the masts with holy triangular sails.

Whipping against the winds

Of change; driven by the forces

Of fear -

 

Straining against the ropes of priori

And knotted in confusion and compromise.

The bowsprit piercing through the long night’s

Headwinds and further into the storm’s dark eye;

A stare from the depths of the mortal maelstrom.

A fury screaming out from hell’s – abyss.

 

Until time’s hands placed me alone

Upon the warm sands of heaven’s beach;

A saving stillness turning the darkness

Into salvation’s quietness.

And calmed all torments to match the blue

Of the deep waters;

The blue

Of a timeless sky.