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Sailing in our cosmic ocean,
Through which we all travel,
I came upon violent seas.
The waves, albeit mindless,
Seemed to have malicious intent…
Each crashing wave
Sent splinters flying through my hull,
Chipped the paint from my bow.
Forever changing the face
Of my irreplaceable vessel.
Yet I sailed onward,
When one day, I came upon dry land.
I was unprepared.
My bow fell upon the shore
Spewing sand in a momentous display.
I was startled,
Enthralled by my new surroundings,
I left my battered craft to explore this newfound land.
And while searching…
I found an anchor.
She was hewn of cold iron,
Embraced by designs (most certainly of divine origin)
Of spiraling tendrils,
Colored in pastel violets, greens and yellows.
Transfixed, I decided to take my discovery to the shore.
She sat and watched patiently
As the tides ebbed
And I repaired my still-beaten ship.
Until finally, the day came.
I summoned the strength and courage
To pull my treasure aboard.
And that morning, I again set off into the malevolent waters.
However, something had changed.
Despite the terrifying whitecaps,
My ever-leaking hull,
And the mouldering paint on my ship’s sides,
I was no longer fearful in my journey.
I realized that life’s destination was no
Shangri-La, or Land of Milk and Honey.
It was just somewhere
Calmer than here.
And once I found it,
My anchor and I would be prepared.
One beautiful afternoon,
I came upon a bay where I knew I’d be safe.
The waves no longer crashed
In misplaced anger, rather,
They lapped at my sides,
Gently, like a mother’s caress.
My anchor was laid in the glistening inlet
Where the sky shone in muted blues
Rather than the familiar steely grays.
I watched the refracted colors of my anchor dance about
Under the azure waves beneath me.
I sat until the sun set on my newfound land,
Bathed in shades of pastel