I’m going to drop my anchor here.
I have gone far too long without
stopping. I’ve floated thousands
of miles since I have left the shore.
I haven’t seen any place to land
since the day I went off to sea.
I have endured many storms.
I have survived storms that have
swallowed up the biggest of ships.
Despite the broken bones, scars,
bruises, I’ve grown to know that
every storm will eventually pass,
and when it does, I can take a deep
breath of the fresh ocean air,
as the gentle breeze brushes
my face. I can look at the tranquil
sea and see the reflection of a man
with a purpose and a will to live.
When the tide is high and my ship
starts to sway, I hold on tight.
I brace for impact. When it’s
over, I stand tall and begin
to feel the warm sun come out
and burn the dark clouds away.
The days of struggle become
a source of strength and hope.
The gloomy days don’t last
when they are faced with
a glowing moon and stars
coming alive. I have witnessed
many ships wreck along the way;
how do they wreck? I wish I knew.
I’ve seen the biggest of waves
start from the smallest of splashes.
I have seen a peaceful sea
turn violent. Below me is
a murky world unknown
to man: a place I wish to never
go. I don’t know what’s lurking
below, but eventually, I will
because all things out of sight
will rise to the surface.
I look ahead and stare at many
miles of a vast sea that breathes.
During this expedition, I’ve never
looked back to think how fast time
has swam by. There’s no point in
moving on when I don’t know
if my past has washed away
with the wake I’ve created.
I fear that the memories I have
made have faded away because
I have spent countless days
thinking about a future so distant.
Surely, the 31 years of my life
have been all that they needed
to be. At least, I see a place to land.
I’m going to drop my anchor
here while the water is calm
and the sky is clear. I have many
miles left to go, but it won’t
matter where I dock if I can’t
look back or know how to stop.


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