Unto the Horizon

August 2, 2010
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Else but where no one durst to go,
A ship’s mate hath but to trow.
A decision unwisely sought
To leave is to come back naught.
But a wench’s hand lay at stake,
A pray to the sun to see them wake.
He wist his possibilities slim
Those yore who told him.
One last glance upon the stern
A fate from which he may never return

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