Beyond the sailboats, the horizon lies
drawing together water and sky
while tiny clouds above it lay
white sails turn blue, drifting away.
The insistent breeze rattles, whispers past
wanting to tell, and give information vast
of courses to be navigated,
and currents to be calculated.
But, sadly, I must decline to know
choosing, instead, alone I must go
trusting and faithful, into the fray
armed with asking for those to pray.
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