Leaving behind the hazy past,
Heading to the future far,
Searching, the golden setting sun.
Waltzing through barriers strong,
Scraping thorns, breaking thorns,
Sailing stormy changing winds.
Sorry if I left you behind,
Strong currents pushing on,
I tried, but failed to stop.
And when the high seas I reach,
I will see the trailing trail,
White, smudged, vanishing thin.
But, the captain's log has it all,
Locked in the cupboard loft,
Away from snooping mortal eyes.
And when I find the sunset dear,
Sitting on the battered deck,
I may think of what's gone by.
Till then I shall ride
The stormy seas, steamy winds,
I hope you wish me luck.
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