A vessel of beacons

            Casting a shier light

            Brighter than any

            Forecasting the oceans

            Wobbled by deception

 

            You sail forth

            Breaking the walls

            Set in by relentless waves

            Precise, cunning, awesome

 

            Having beauty roughed

            In shape

            But perfect in heart, soul

            Where waters can’t

           

            Press a cold hand

            Gritting teeth, you fight

            As days swim by

            Darkness falls

 

            Yet you motion forward

            Anchored down, brave

            Revealing your light

            Busted by bitter winds

           

            The ship wrestles the tides

            Lead by its captain

            Named after heavens

            Striking deep in eyes

           

            Of the storm

            Conjuring in fright

            You put forth

            But four words

 

            A vessel of beacons

            Speaking as you

            Sarah Smallfield

            The fantastic