Forging ahead past the waves by the tides
Looking for harbours past headlands
Always a new hope for water or wood
These spices that drift through our hands

At times we set anchor, take oars ashore
Announcing our newfound homeland
But restless and needing we cast off for more
Leaving little more than a wave of our hand

Far from reckless our searching is genuine
Our troubles and homestands well-known
Whether a bottle, a maiden, or a man
These were not places called home

And we know, we'll know when we find it
A place for a girl or idea
We'll know when we're near the horizon
We'll know when our self's edge is here

10/5/25