Unlike the ancient mariners

who kept their eyes on the closest shore,

for they were sure,

out beyond,

there be sea monsters there,

I’ve tacked the edges of the furthest oceans,

for by faith I believe,

Soul abideth beyond.

And She awaits my docking in Her harbor.

She has perched, watching,

and paced Her widows walk,

longing for sight of my ships sails.

Her warm home and hearth,

set in my mind like a memory of a dream.

So, sheets cinched to cleats,

anchor, rock hooked,

ships-holds emptied of their treasures

(for at last I have returned

to the soft, sleepy pleasures

between my arrival and my next disembarkation.)

Her gentle hands caress,

not to ensnare, rather to prepare

for my next voyage over the seas.