I seek
with new direction and desire
to unfurl my billowy sails to the keen
wind, and take my dangerous course between
the Scylla and Charybdis of sweet lies
and steer me over rocks of apathy.
I seek
with new direction and desire
to rid my galleon's hulk
of willful barnacles,
renew the rigging, let fly the bravest flags
of moral courage cracking in the wind.
Like a mariner
who clears his decks
of all redundancy before the coming storm,
so let me lash securely to my thought
songs whose meanings soar
above all wrong, as do the gulls
who make of trials their
fearless ecstasy.
Rather rejoice in golden flying clouds
of promise/inspiration
down the years.
They far outpace
the poverty of fears,
the black and threatening storms.
Thus illumined/redirected
each one's immortal destiny will cry
the light of meaning—
of wide horizon/purpose for each one
to set a course by—throughout eternity.
