The Path of All Seas
The feelings seeth, just under a placid surface.
Too many of them, torn in different directions,
a strange storm that lies underneath.
A strange storm, wind from every direction,
all at once. No help, no hint of which way
to set your sails.
I have become proficient at drifting,
at letting loose the sails and letting them flap,
letting them wait for the wind to find a direction,
knowing at long last, after a life as a sailor,
that in the end, all seas lead back to you.
About this poem.
A love poem. A poem about faith. Maybe about sailing. Poetry never has just one meaning.