Why is my life in turmoil O' great god of the sky?
Have I not trod thy humble path of life?
Watered the crop of forgiveness
Hoisted my flag on the highest mast as I set sail
Through turbulent winds has my ship sailed
Her timbered wounds soaked with salt
My brine of sorrow like watered tears,
Through jagged rocks my ship did flounder
Cutting the stern as she bleeds the oil that thy hands have toiled.
Did every port not write her name, as she docked her load?
Her wondrous cargo has fed the poor that even thy eyes have seen.
Let my ship with creaking timbers cast her sail to southern winds
That ye may blow her home.
No more rough waters to rock her bow.
So may you lift the fog with a sweep of thy hand
To where both ship and man go home to die.
Had not thy ship serve thee in time of need?
When her bow creaked and rats did flee?
Did not her stern thou did bleed, stood by thee?
In rocky seas did she venture thee; unhindered by gales that be?
When other ships rained with good luck flora,
Thou endured pain along the corals.
Many ports have embarked thee, through many lives thou has seen.
The beginning of life and the end of death,
When two seas meet, they often greet.
Like the wheel of a ship, we loose our grip.
A kindled spark that lights the flame,
Often hid within the pain
Did not thy lantern in the fog, guide thy ship through jagged rocks?
Hoist thy sail my friend of woes
Rest thy tired limbs and wing, like the seagull, and sky born eagle
I see a gull in my minds eye,
where ships and men sail home to die.
Where no more, will the wind beat on a tired sail
Ridden and holed and almost pale
Rest thy timbers on the sand.....both boat and weary bosons hand,
That ye may never take afloat a vessel laden full of woes.