Fair Weather for Sailing

Fair weather for sailing!
Gone, the dark horizon brimmed with noisome groaning,
Vanished like a summer's daydream beyond the edge of yesterday,
While the heaving breast of Mother Sea bears the sailor onward
Toward his fated end.

Blue-black waves beckon.
White foam flies upon the wild winds shrieking
And relentless fate drives the tiny cockleshell still onward
While the slowly pulsing towers sing of sleep
And time suspends its march.

The helmsman cries aloud.
Sunlight scatters like a thousand fiery jewels upon the spray
While memories of the long lost land fade to insubstantial mist
And life itself seems no more than the dreamer's ghost
Awash upon the endless sea.

A thing beyond all hope!
The tiny is ship cast upon an unknown shore
Whose mountains, stretching upward, touch the very sky,
The azure blue of which still proclaims,
"Fair weather for sailing!"