(What is the loss that you carry, like an anchor, holding you to the past?

Sometimes we must embark before we know we are ready).

I row my boat over the open sea, no land in sight,

Longing for home. The current carries me awhile,

Then settles to rest, alongside my resolve.

Many shores have come and gone in my time on the ocean.

Many dreams have faded to nothing, not

For lack of wishing, but for lack of will.

I sleep a bit, respite from the wonderings

That wash like the waves across my drifting craft:

Where am I going?

What guiding star have I missed under cover of cloud?

The night is long (as nights can be).

I wait in the time between.

Then at last, and as always, the sun rises,

Sometimes in mist, sometimes calling to the huge blue sky, saying

I am come. I am here, the light you waited for in the dark.

Then I lift my oars, breathe the deep salt air,

And begin to row.