Eternity Summer

A distant voice cried out to me
Faceless but warm,
Acting as beacon and muse
I was drawn to it:
Empty galley, warm harbour.

There are terrible storms upon this sea;
Powerful tempests
That seem to deny God,
That could never possibly allow the sun to shine again
To shine again upon this face
In this life.

But these terrible storms
These terrible storms of eternity
Do break
Do shatter, like men
And become, as a result of their mortality, realized
Warm and peaceful--glory
Pure and real.

This is a lesson hard-learned by many a sailor,
And this man
This tired, land-locked man
Is beginning to understand a thing or two
About what it means
To be adrift at sea,
And better still
What it means to be guided home.