on a boat,
tossed in seas,
we find ourselves shrouded in fog,
this is life.
A beacon shines,
from some distance shore,
beckoning.
Times and points of clarity
and we follow that light,
not knowing is we shall reach a safe haven
and shore
or sharp rock that will tear apart our fragile life
and end our journey.
How much of our lives are like this?
Times and points,
where we seem to know where we head,
but find that we have been misdirected instead?
Each of us travels on,
not truly knowing,
much of anything at all.
To have accompaniment,
is what we seek,
for the boat ride is lonely
and wet
and cold
and dangers abound.
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