Running the High Seas

Out on the high Seas, once all too eager to leave the shore,
He looks back, wondering where he left and what he came here for
The waves of life can crush one even out at Sea
Often what looked so inviting turns out not to be
The Sea is a wicked mistress and will exact her price
The lover, one dark, wrathful night will be her sacrifice.
Alone in the vortex, dark waves constantly crashing around
He navigates the water and the waves by faith alone
But close behind the Sea’s long fingers try make him her own
He feels her cold demanding caress, helpless, he hears a sound
Bringing hope to his waterlogged soul and salvation to his eyes
The eerie haunting, keening wail that has burdened countless lives
Deep and lingering, telling of numbing sorrows and deep seated fears
The Sea writhes and wreaks havoc with her dark cold waves
The echo of the siren - how often that mournful cry saves;
The razor light penetrates the black and violent night
Intermittently comes the flashing, caring, rescue-light
He shakes the dank tendrils of the Sea’s tight embrace
From his shoulder and, full of hope, starts the race
Shore-wards he swiftly sails, guided by the light
Skirts the lee shore, now safety is within his sight
He is embraced by the familiar and well-worn and then,
All too soon he forgets, and the Sea draws him back again.