Lost at Sea

Leaving the dock, taking one last look,

Sailing away from safe harbors moor;

Leaving land behind with its dubious chores,

Slipping away fast and losing the shore.

Out at sea where great waves are tossed,

Now breaking and cresting upon our front bow;

Great weights suddenly upon us, leaving us helpless,

While down in the trough.

Oh, where is the compass that guides our straight course,

Did we leave it behind, thinking we’d not need it?

That we’d find us a port?

The sea would be peaceful, there's not any storm.

Well now we looked up, past the mast’s slender pole;

Where an angel appearing stretched forth his hands;

The storms fury abating, leaving the sun and its glory,

Its ray's now unfolding.

Off in the distance, a slender profile,

The port of his choosing, a habitable isle;

We trust we can make it, but we’re not on our own,

For on us he’s looking to see us back home.

May 23, 1994

(Tribute to Steven H. Jones, Chief Petty Officer USA Navy Retired)