With cold wind in my hair and with frostbitten toes,
I find I’m deposed when I dare to despair.
In repair, one finds solace by difficult means;
TV, Computer and iPod screens.
In a flock full of people who do nothing but wailing,
I find now that sailing needs more courage than pride,
Besides, there is hardly a thing here left for one to find,
In my mind, that is, I lose sight of the shore.
What’s more, I find that there’s nothing while travelling south,
By mouth I have heard of the stories absurd,
The words and the gestures that tell me to go:
“You can still catch the show if you head over there.”
“Head where?” I then asked in pitiful woe.
“Where about do I go, and what do I seek?”
But the people are meek, and refuse to confide.
Instead stay inside, as they watch from the alley.
Alone on my galley, with nothing but pride,
In step with the tide, off to my destination.
Without explanation from people there former,
The air getting warmer, the captain more bruised.
“I lose, I lose”, I dare say I said,
The seas that I tread were pristine and prestigious,
In the footsteps of Jesus, I crossed island sands,
But crawled on my hands, as I there durst not stand.
For I had embarked on my trip with a fistful of pride,
And in stride, I had inched about various shores,
As I said before, It takes courage, not pride,
To see, coincide, seek, and find truth.
So emotions, uncouth, leaving footsteps of failure,
A sailor, who walked on the path of Golgotha,
Stuck in a broth of his most miserable shame,
For unlike He who he followed, there was no one to blame.