Steering my boat
  between the waves of words,
   the islands of stanzas
    across the sea of poetry -
     towards Eternity...

Steering my boat
   cut out of the pages
    of my hand-written book...

Who can understand the life of a poet...,
   but the Winds of the Invisible,
blowing my sails -
  the Benevolent Ones,
the Malevolent Ones...

I should have been more cautious,
   prudent
not
   to have caught
the Bad Ones...

There is no point now...
  It's all gone
and forlorn...
   I can never go back...

However,
  the Shore
of the Country, Whose Name is Unknown,
   is still out of sight...

"I do not feel Him", 
   my mother said
two years before her Death...

Where is she now?
   I cannot believe she is gone...
She's always been here,
   on This Shore...


This Shore...
   That Shore...

We're sailing...
  And until 
we reach the Other Shore
  we keep the memories
of This One...

How happy we were
   running along it as kids,
walking along when in love -
   out of this World...

I don't want 
  to finish this poem.
   
I don't know
     how to finish it...

Maybe because
  there is still time
to catch the Right Winds,
   to steer my boat
to the Right Shore?



Feb. 11. 2026


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