by Tom King
We've sailed this sea in tempest, storm and trial.
Some think we're cursed, I think we’re blessed.
The way I see it, if this life is truly all there is,
We may as well lay down and molder with the rest.
But on the outside chance that all of this makes sense,
We'll trust that we are watched by He who made the stars.
That He who set the worlds to spin in space.
Knows exactly where his troubled children are.
How sweet the sound, the unseen wind in treetops
That, if it will, may bring down mighty oaks about our ears
Or yet may fill our sails and drive our tiny boat
Across the pitching, heaving sea of years
I choose to raise our sails and catch the wind.
And cling to the tiller, cloak wrapped up against the spray
Trusting that soon again will come the morning
Steering small and ever on, only stars to guide our way
(c) 2011 by Tom King