Distant Shore

Through my scope I see a ship 
rise on a distant shore 
Its sails all ragged, tattered, torn, 
rotted, battered, weather-worn.

Giant swords of jagged stone 
have pierced her wooden heart. 
Life all gone, now beached alone, 
the Fates have done their part.

Massive arms of rugged rock 
Rally ‘round it fast. 
Their embrace keeps holding it, 
afloat.

A mighty task.

©2000 Raymond K Olson