The lone and fearful wayfarer set sail upon an uncharted sea.
Tempest came and rent his sails; dark was the changing tide.
Adrift now; alone save but a distant light on the edge of eternity.

The darkness of an apocalyptic night covered his soul.
Distant but ever nearing lay the minute light of hope.
Brine lay like heavy stones upon his weary heart.
Visions of yesterday’s safe harbor danced in the dark.

Penitence spilled forth from lips cracked by the vestiges of time.
Shallow and vain flirtations of his life afore tarried on his mind.
In his hands he held tight the sighing spirit of his true love.
He held it close that it bore no harm whilst seeking divine help from above.

Fiery darts of maleficent stars tore across the ships battered bow.
Prayers uttered incessant; hope was still distant but waiting somehow.
Clarity of purpose fought against steady braying mount of confusion.
The light of hope shone upon his face; by grace came absolution.

J. Allen Wilson © 7/12/2008


That being justified by his grace, we should be made heirs according to the hope of eternal life.
Titus 3:7