My Wayward Journey Home
I have been adrift, amiss, astray
For too many a year now
Without a beacon or lighthouse
On my wayward journey home.
It seems this lifeboat has proved
Itself a sturdy and steadfast steward
On this long ocean sojourn, even against
Such savage weather and unrelenting waves.
Hungry, I feed on the Fisher King’s fine wisdom,
Whose hearty meat I find humbly within.
Thirsty, the salty sea water becomes wine
A sweet soma, to quench my parched lips.
Then when all hope of setting foot on solid ground
Feels as distant as the deep ocean’s divide,
The golden shore of deliverance dawns upon me
Just over the endless horizon,
Ablaze with the prodigal sun.
For too many a year now
Without a beacon or lighthouse
On my wayward journey home.
It seems this lifeboat has proved
Itself a sturdy and steadfast steward
On this long ocean sojourn, even against
Such savage weather and unrelenting waves.
Hungry, I feed on the Fisher King’s fine wisdom,
Whose hearty meat I find humbly within.
Thirsty, the salty sea water becomes wine
A sweet soma, to quench my parched lips.
Then when all hope of setting foot on solid ground
Feels as distant as the deep ocean’s divide,
The golden shore of deliverance dawns upon me
Just over the endless horizon,
Ablaze with the prodigal sun.
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