As a boat atop a glittering,
fragile sea, I am.
Storms frequent the waters,
and threaten me to capsize.
Ensnared in a titanic battle;
the meeting of the infinite heavens
and the untamable deep.
I shout to Thee in a full desperation, and Behold!
- my ropes become taught, the helm is retaken,
and I endure on the grand Stallion.
In the beginnings of the ceased wind I praise and laud and sing.
But aught the wind stop...
the sun, the flat, and the ease overtake
my vigilant spirit.
And how my tongue goes stale,
my muscles as a sleeping giant.
I thirst, but until the brink of Death...
I see it not.
You find me there, pondering the drink of Salt,
which becomes of a man Deliriousness and Violence.
Just as I yield to jump,
and swim that endless swim,
Your Right Hand catches me,
on all but a whim.
Fortitude regained, and rid of shame;
With a visage of stone, and straight before;
I unfurl my sail, and proceed,
back into the gail.