The Sailor's Prize

The boat, silently sailing,

Drifts, hopeless, on the sea,

Lost, ever searching for its destiny.

The horizon, distant,

So far away,

Calls to the sailor,

Calls each passing day.

His body is tired, 

But travel he must

Towards tomorrow,

From dawn till dusk. 

And then one morning,

It suddenly appears,

His dream, his answer

In the guise of a bird.

With vigour anew

And light in his eyes,

The sailor he follows,

He follows his prize.

Till last he lands.

His destiny, the shore.

The bird is you,

And I’m searching no more.