Although the ages ebb and flow
around the axis dreams may flow
the spindle of the compass fixed upon
a most unlikely mix;
at least I thought it so.
But as the miles flowing fly,
the shore comes closer by the bye,
I see my goal extended.
How wise a hand the tiller holds,
How bold a breath the sails unfold,
How great a plan brings me to land.
Unmeasured treasures of the shores.
6 years ago