there's not enough room!
no vessel can do it.
but i have; i did.
this, the chant of every survivor.
it took a team to get around some blocks.
my sailor-friends hopped off their boats (even momentarily)
and helped me to move mine.
(i am forever grateful.)
many an impasse left me alone
still more gridlocks i defeated by myself
and their defeat left me more wounded than before
but closer to freedom.
and the goal is open waters.
where depths can be probed without fear.
i must admit,
my telescope (or periscope) is blurry
inexperience fogs up the glass
am i at bay?
docked?
sailing free?
i'm moving.
whether in circular patterns,
in full sail,
or merely swaying with the wind.
but this i feel,
an Anchor.
steadfast, sure, flexible, and always true.
everywhere i float,
when plunged under surface,
in all battles,
each triumph,
in stinging loss,
through torrential storm;
this violent earth makes it's mark
but
Christ remains.
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