There is a labyrinth in my bones
that leads the way to the vessel upon which
my soul sets out,
across the gaping mouth
of the ocean reverie devout
to the mighty mystery beckoning loud
throughout the
night of life, dreaming tandem with the
light.

It is alright, this
winding quest that strips my mind of rest;
this voyage of no end that forever takes me
around the bend to only make me start
again

—aye,
yes, it is a long journey, but I must do
my best, forever long
that long may be.

There is an unknown and the labyrinth
that be inside these bones
shifts like Saharan sands and often
breaks me, but,
to the vessel I have reached and my ship
has set out to meet
what it is that calls to me;

freedom, ah yes, it is sweet.
Even through the gales, and maelstrom deep,
the soul proceeds,

hungry, thirsting for that great
kingdom of lionheart
and cup of wisdom that harkens all
ships to some bright shore

far. How far
shall I go, to grip the thunder of a god?

I do not believe I shall ever know.
And yet,

into the horizon, still, I must go.

For that is the nature of the soul.