Poetry2ponder's Blog

Steadfast is the wind that guides my ship towards the horizon, to a destination unknown.
Battered and exhausted are the sailors who do not know where the ship is blown.
A mutinous bunch, they overtake the captain, and tie him to the main mast.
For days, to the north we sail, for we do not know how long the storm will last.
And time goes so slowly when standing on the deck and there’s nothing you can do.
It is so disheartening to know that there is a plan, but you haven’t got a clue.
And the second mate rings the bell in the morning to call all hands on deck.
The storm has cleared, though all our minds had been left a wreck,
From sitting at sea, surrounded by water, with water below and water falling down
And hearing only waves, wind and the thunderous rain — no other sounds.
Though we tried to avoid the storm, it blew us off course,
Though we tried to stay warm, we had no recourse.
Asleep in my mind, I dream of crashing upon land,
Awake, I’m adrift, floating in God’s hands.