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.