A Soul Adrift . A poem about my newfound quest for God

Maybe it was the angel that appeared. Perhaps it was the hands of God, nudging me closer to salvation. Do I need religion? Have I become empty? I do not know. I do know that something changed in my life.

The rolling of the sea has become my lullaby

rocking me to near sleep

then cruelly jolting me awake

never affording my peace

while withholding rest

My arms hang from fatigue

paddling to no where

my legs dangle

from kicking to get away

for all of the energy spent

I am here yet still there

My skin no longer burns

for it has toughened

and deadened

feeling neither the heat nor frost

although it begs to do so

My chin propped up as my stern

arms outstretched and hands clutching

the craft woven from that which remain buoyant

and fastened with what is at hand

afloat I stay, regardless of drag

The end of the sea never comes

as the horizon keeps its pace ahead

I wish away the sun

only to cry for its return

to illuminate that which has no form

Adrift I stay

Through dawn and dust

With no direction

but adrift and afloat

The dawn breaks again

I am far past arising for the occasion

with eyes closed and breathing shallow

I feel my hair whip upon my back

like a sentry alerting me of an intruder

Wind I feel, a welcome stranger

cooling my skin, or so I would hope

The water splashes my dry feet

the birds ahead sing in excitement

my eyes open to a different scene

Ahead on the horizon

a glimmer I see

unlike that of these endless days

a vessel, a mound or a mirage

it matters little

My jaw rises as my eyes adjust

blurry it is, just as it is clear

it is new, it is different, it is ahead

my clutch lessens as I release my boards

I feel the heat again as I am soothed by the wind

The wind blows strong

from my back at first

My legs kick once again

My hands scoop the water towards

In motion again

No longer adrift

As my feet strike the water

I can hear the glass break

As my hands strike the waves

I feel again

Propelled

I once again hear my neighbors

laughing and crying

adrift but afloat

crowding me in isolation

Do they not see

Can they not look ahead

surely they have looked behind

or perhaps are facing the sea since covered

To my knees I rise

My speed is slow

and the image remains unclear

glistening before me

teasing me with promise

of either hope or disappointment

My back straightens

muscles rip and blood begins to flow

The heat burns me

the salt ensures all scars are fresh

Pain throbs through my chest

Back to a ball

with eyes closed

limp and adrift I could be

I can not have it,

There is something ahead

Sitting upon my heels

Skin taught across my back

The wind strikes me hard

pushing me forward

but not causing me to fall

My craft lunges ahead

driven by the wind at my bow

and another gust comes

in motion I am

on course for once

My arms stretch out

my sail stiffens

the air pushes me in a direction

with a destination undetermined

welcome nonetheless

The rear gale rests often

my craft slows

I fight the urge to kick again

A breeze to my port turns me

and another leeward threatens my path

My torso stiffens and twists

against and to the gales

calling for the stream to strike me from behind

Bring me forward and to

do not turn me, no, not around

The effort increases, as does my will

as do my questions

What if this is a dream

What should happen if I find on the horizon

ends a rainbow unable to be grasped

I have no choice

my legs are too tired

my throat is too dry

What should happen if I find on the horizon

land that I drifted right by