HORIZONS

HORIZONS

She was christened, and got underway
Her bright new sails and shiny brass gleaming
In the morning sunlight's bright gleaming day
She made her way out toward the horizon
As proud onlookers cheered her departure
Unblemished, she proudly plied smooth waters
She accustomed herself to being at sea
Experiencing, feeling, and learning

Waves building as the sea deepened beneath
Her bow slicing through waves with confidence
Sails billowing as she catches the breeze
Jib set proudly, her mainmast strong and tall
Sturdy hull tightly planked, shiny new decks
Now starting to be covered with bow-spray
As she makes her way toward fathoms deeper

Whitecaps breaking on top of larger swells
Storm clouds building gusts lashing her topsails
Wood creaking now plunging into large waves
Rain falling making vision difficult
She reduces sail and speed for safety
And quarters the sea to lessen the blow
A sail tears and is brought down from the mast
Her roll and yaw increasing mightily

Her lines tight against the belaying pins
A small paint chip here, a small cracked plank there
She maintains strength against the storm's strong blows
Lightning flashes in the sky, thunder rolls
Water runs down her hatch into the hold
Her confidence waning as she holds on
She assesses her damage and maintains
Steady on course through the brunt she makes wake

Light filters through the clouds and brings her hope
The huge waves begin to subside slowly
Giving way to slow rollers, lighter wind
She re-furls her full cloths to improve speed
Making good time again as she passes
Beautiful islands and lovely seashores
She makes port, sliding gently into slip
Lines tied off, decks scrubbed and repairs made

Ah the safety of port and the ease of
Being behind breakwaters and jetties
No large waves, no deep water, no strong wind
Can hurt her as long as she's in harbor
Barnacles attach, worms bore and moss grows
On her once shiny hull, she sits safely
Though and quietly with the others there
This is the life she thinks, no waves are here

She watches others come and go bravely
In from and out to the deep blue sea
Are they thinking straight she now asks herself
And then realizes that she too yearns
For the offshore breeze and for the ocean
She is a ship after all, not a dock
She loves the beautiful islands and waves
She yearns now to be free to sail her sea

The comfort of harbor was nice and safe
But how can a ship stay there all her life
How can she fulfill her life's destiny
What beautiful adventures and sights missed
What other ships might she meet and share love
And her hopes and desires and dreams with them
How can she reach her horizon from here
She is a ship, and her lines now come off


In the morning sunlight's bright gleaming day
She makes her way out toward her horizon
As proud onlookers cheer her departure
Experienced and proud, she plies the waves
She knows what it is like to be at sea
Experiencing, feeling and learning
She sees beautiful islands and beaches
As she heads toward her destined horizon


MST

LOST AND FOUND

LOST AND FOUND

A little girl became lost and scared in the
woods of life.
As time went by, the woods became darker
deeper and scarier
She couldn't find her way back to her home
or to herself.
She wandered her eyes blurry with tears
and longing.
The girl was brave and she forged on through
the woods alone.
She met many people in the dense, dark woods
who walked with her.
But none could help her find her way back to
her home, herself.
Time passed and she forgot how to get back to
where she came from.
Sometimes, thorns would scratch her as she walked
by rose bushes.
Small trickles of blood would run from these wounds
that stung her.
After more time, she didn't notice the dark, the fear,
or the stings.
She only understood their presence, their existence,
but not hers.
Periodically, she would ask directions for any way
out of the woods.
But the answers she received all pointed different and
conflicting directions.
When one day, she saw a twinkle of light in the form
of words written.
At first she dismissed them, she had seen words before
with no help.
But these words kept urging, trying, loving and helping
the lost girl.
After listening for a short while, the light grew brighter
and she could see.
Another direction became apparent, it's glow ahead
becoming brighter.
The girls spotted a clearing, sky through the woods
peered blue.
The sound of waves greeted her as she approached
the light.
Salt air filled her senses and the cry of seabirds fell
upon her ears.
A feeling of safety washed over her as the waves did on the
now visible beach.
Standing at the water's edge was a seafarer, offering her His
scarred hand.
And for the moment, what she had sought became much
less important.
Who she had become now made sense and comforted
the girl.
After all this time, was it possible that it wasn't home she
was seeking?
Maybe, just maybe, the journey wasn't for naught, it was
rather a path.
To what she was meant to find, and who she was now meant
to be.
God's love light radiated as she approached the man and
the beach.
Could it be that instead of herself she sough, God had her
find Him?
Her sojourn had indeed prepared her for the impossibility
of return.
Had it paved her way to the sea, the light, to God and
possibly Him?
The search had been so hard, because she had been looking
in the wrong place.
It wasn't herself, or her past, or her childhood and freedom
she was seeking.
Perhaps she reasoned, that it was this all along which she had
been meant to find.
Their hands touched, and as their eyes met across the space
of moments.
She knew then, that at least of what she had been seeking
she had found.
She also knew that what she still was meant to find, would be
made easier, by Him





MST

LINES

LINES

I'm a fisherman and seafaring man
I've had many lines to tend in my life
There are lines which we untie at the dock
So we can leave the safety of the port
There are lines fastening sail to rigging
We use lines on the compass to guide us
Latitude lines and the longitude lines
Are on our maps to show us our location

Lines are trolled and drifted with baits and hooks
These are the true fishing lines of our trade
Lines of debarkation mark our exit
From our country's water to the high seas
Our ship, has lines to mark it's areas
One can be amidships, or on the bow
One can be on port side or on starboard
And you can also be abaft the beam

Using rope lines on deck is marlinspike
Sextants have lines to measure the sun with
Against lines on the clock and horizon
Running chart lines to find underwater
Structure invisible from the surface
Anchor line holds our ship in place at sea
Fuel and water lines serve our engines
In port, spring lines keep us centered in slip

But even though I am well versed in lines
I now find myself with a whole new set
Of lines for which I must concern myself
For it is love lines of which I now speak
She has lines I must tend to and care for
There is a line she has drawn for herself
A line she wishes to cross to find and be free
Of life line bonds she has submitted to

She has lines on her cheeks where the tears flow
It is my job to cause the happy ones
And indeed my job to dry the sad ones
She had lines that kept her from saying words
Words I desperately wanted to hear
But we have now thrown that line off the ship
And "I love you" is free to sail to me
Causing my own tears to make lines on me

I tend carefully to the lines I write her
Each line turning into a pretty verse
Which when she reads I pray she will be pleased
Then her smile will make those pretty smile lines
By the eyes which have read my simple lines
The line between me and her has faded
The line that ties me to her has strengthened
Lines form the word we and toward it we move

I'm a fisherman and seafaring man
I've had many lines to tend in my life
But I now tend the lines God intended
Her lines. I will remove them, care for them
Dry them, cause them, cross them, share them, love them
Until lines woven into us create
Strong fabric from which we will make our sails
To sail into the line of our horizon

AFTER THE RAIN

AFTER THE RAIN

One can feel the rain's pending arrival
The wind changes, strengthens and is gusty
Clouds obscure the sun and bright sky with gray
Colors fade, sun rays briefly peer through them
Pretty sunlit hues now hide behind clouds
They just peer from behind dark barriers
Winking and shining to show their presence

Misty and fine drops begin to moisten
Slowly making it difficult to see
Caution is the watchword when proceeding
Lest we lose traction and slip and injure
It comes time for shelter, and the closeness
Offered at hand and in hand we allow
The rainstorm to come in earnest to us
Large moist drops in earnest are now falling

The sound of the rainstorm, though familiar
Now ushers in the thunder and lightning
Bright flashes are followed by deep rumbling
Causing us to hold tight against the storm
All is wet now, without care or concern
Large drops running down to moisten us both
By their sheer volume they cleanse and purge us
Washing dirt, dust and things unclean away

We gladly now accept the rain torrent
Letting it rend things left here by times past
Cleaning windows and improving our sight
Freshening our lives with healing waters
Making everything seem new and clean
As the rainstorm now behind us settles
With improved vision, we see things anew
Strengthened now by enduring the deluge

Although we can now safely come outside
We might choose to remain held close within
So as to see each other more clearly
Our love is now deepened and purified
By sharing the shelter and comforting
Surviving, knowing that next time we're here
To dry away the waters of the storm
Which fell, not from the sky, but from her eyes

MST

HELM WATCH MINE

HELM WATCH MINE

It is time for my helm watch, my wheel time
She's not my ship, but responds to my touch
When I take hold, I still feel other warmth
From another's hands upon her steering
He has skills as I but dissimilar
He is the master and the commander
I am privileged to touch her at all
But when I do she seems so very mine

Although I have no claim to my wheel time
When I relinquish her it hurts my heart
And I long for my return to her helm
When at it, I feel no real fear with her
The sinking sun melts in golden stream
O'er shoulders of the beautiful horizon
Meandering with twinkling greens blinking
Over beautiful soft swells I now traverse

I steer in the unknown on my wheel time
I look toward the fading dark horizon
I know my time alone with her is short
I treasure the moments of my night watch
The sky lights with bright stars through her canvas
And they twinkle and reflect off of her
As if they were a million nice fireflies
In the shape of dippers, bears and crosses

I wonder if she likes it, my wheel time
I wonder if she feels the kindred thrill
I wonder if her beautiful riggings tremble
I wonder is this her favorite time of day
I wonder if she knows that it is mine
I wonder does she feel sting of release
I wonder is there anticipation
I wonder does she love the helm watch mine





MST

THE SUN CAME OUT

THE SUN CAME OUT

It had been a dreary week with clouds obscuring
our light, and grayness subduing pretty color.
The shades of bright beautiful hues not showing
instead drab dull pastels somber in their pallor.

Making our moods and thoughts dank, somber and dreary
as we moved through our lives missing light's life glow.
When our thoughts turned they turned ever wrongly
to other dank, angry, sadness grind filled with woe.

Pray tell what is missing now, that was just recently
here that stopped this darkness and brightened life so?
When this warm glow lightened our lives filled with glee
no anger, sadness, angst or stresses did we know.

Then, the sun came out, bright yellows, hues of gold
warmth, safety and happiness returned to the we.
Twas that tingly, lovely color filled day we fortold
to ourselves and promised us we would again see.

The beautiful beams and rays of light did through
the clouds dark and bleak blanket of color deploy.
Brightening her eyes the fine, happy bright sunlight
lifted the we from the dank and filled us with joy.

PERSPECTIVE

Perspective

One day, the father of a very wealthy family took their son on a trip to the country with the express purpose of showing him how poor people live.They spent a couple of days and nights on the farm of whatwould be considered a very poor family.On their return from their trip, the father asked his son,'How was the trip?''

It was great, Dad.''

Did you see how poor people live?' the father asked.

'Oh yeah,' said the son.'So, tell me, what did you learn from the trip' asked the father.

The son answered:'I saw that we have one dog and they had the four.'

We have a pool that reaches to the middle of our garden andthey have a creek that has no end..

We have imported lanterns in our garden andthey have the stars at night.

Our patio reaches to the front yard andthey have the whole horizon.

We have a small piece of land to live on andthey have fields that go beyond our sight.

We have servants who serve us, but they serve others.

We buy our food, but they grow theirs.

We have walls around our property to protect us,they have friends to protect them.

'The boy's father was speechless.

Then his son added, 'Thanks Dad for showing me how poor we are.'

(I wish I could attribute this beautiful story, I can't seem to find it's author. If anyone knows, please contact me and I will post it, so they might be recognized. Gene)