Lyricism - Essay

A ship rested in a becalmed sea,
While the crew was settled down nervously.
The boatswain stood neath twilight's fall,
The weight of the stillness pervaded all.
He considered the path that lead him here -
Of his loved one's embrace, his departure with tears.
How sweet was she whom he left on the shore.
His mistress, the ocean, was fickle and sore.
He knew her moods well from the saltwater in his veins,
To be a mariner true was the legacy his ancestors gave.
He lived for the sound of a sail snapping taut,
The grunts of hard labor, the hours spent on knots.
The foreign lands and sights from this life,
Made exciting new tales to tell his new wife.
But the ship was not moving, was stranded in the sea.
There was no method but the oars to break free.
He prayed for a wind, steady and strong.
He prayed for his true love, whom he'd missed for so long.
He prayed to the Father for mercy and grace.
He prayed for this to happen before he met Him face to face.
For the sea had been barren for a score and seven days.
No breeze had stirred the mast, the keel had felt no waves.
His men were resigned to this cruel and slow toll,
No portage in sight, rations and fresh water ran low.
The Boatswain lifted his eyes to the heavens once more,
Sighting his sextant to the stars and their course.
Such beauty and light in the early night sky.
"If one day we sailed those heights what more would we find?
Mine Creator's hand wove them in a pattern so fine.
So consistent are they in their journey, I can predict their places from here.
If only mine own journey were so bright and so clear!"
The man lowered his tool and gaze from on high,
and turned towards his quarters, giving a sigh.
And as he paced towards his sling and night's sleep,
A sail ruffled once, as a breath of air began to creep...