Turn The Boat About
In the midst of such a storm the waves cried out despair!
He would turn aside but in the dark he knew not where.
All about was emptyness, survival almost gone,
replaced by devastation and no reason to go on.
Then somewhere above the shore, there came a silver light
urging him to grab an oar and not give up the fight.
Turn the boat about and ride the crest of every wave.
You still have the strength to live, reject the water's grave.
Trust me I am on the shore, for I am not a star.
Turn the boat about or you will founder where you are.
Follow me, the flicker said, and with the morning tide
you will find there is no wave on which you can not ride.
Then the seaman raised his head and searched the blackened sky.
There was naught to guide him to the shore though he would try.
Encouraged by the glimmer of the light he saw afar
he turned the boat about in the direction of the star.
Muscles trembled with each stroke. He labored through the night
using all the strength he had, he rowed beneath the light.
When the morning came there was a boat cast on the shore.
Beaten by the rocks and shattered, it would sail no more.
Here there was no lighthouse and no beacon would be found.
There were only craggy rocks protruding from the ground.
Yea, the seaman lived! He lives again in our reflection.
He knew there was no lighthouse. How did he know the right direction?
Yesterday is history,
tomorrow just a mystery.
And if today is good to me,
it will beat the heck out of day before yesterday!
[This message has been edited by Ohme (edited 12-04-1999).]