Riding the Bus of Our Life--a Muse

             

                                                              To Sea, My Son

The longboat creaked upon the tide,

Its dragon prow cut morning's pride.

Steel met sky; the oars took hold—

A journey new, a tale retold.

Behind him stood the fjord and flame,

The hearth, the hills, his mother's name.

He turned, a tear behind his eye,

For home, for her, for days gone by.

But at his side, his father stood,

A man of salt and ironwood.

"Look not behind," the elder said,

"For life lies where the oceans spread.

The winds ahead will shape your song,

Through storm and sun, both fierce and long.

Your past is stone, it holds you still—

But waves will bend the strongest will.

So raise your gaze, my warrior kin,
Let go of what has ever been.
For time sails fast, and youth sails free