In crepuscular skies
I descry sailboats afloat
on soft seas
out of reach
as I lie along
the sandy beach.
Do I wish
to be on one,
the one that sails
on, undeterred by
imminent darkness?
No moon there is
tonight to light
one's way,
only stars
and intuition.
Is what I wish for
not unlike life,
a journey of waves
and storms, winds
whipping at my sails?
Yes, there are also
placid passages
when one can close
his eyes and dream
of moments of
tranquility and calm.
But what of stormy
weather when whether
one can withstand
tumult, oceans of
uncertainty, swells of
hell-like hurricanes
of dread and remorse,
forces so strong
one sees no ways
from which to recover?
We only hover and hope.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS