Mist on a Breeze #6

Sailor Suite

The current will seem random,
When the tiller has no guiding hand.
But . . . we always mold the flow
That will carry us along.

Still . . .
A ship without a port
Can only
Cast its anchor
In shifting sand.

You’ve got me hangin’ on
Like a hangman pulling higher.
Hangman can’t you see
You will set me free
Even if you let that knot get tighter.

If faith can move a mountain,
It can also light a star.
It really doesn’t matter
Who you think you are.