In Portugal the poets write
Of sailors who have braved the sea
In search of islands far from sight
Where time still holds a mystery.
My own search goes not over waves
Nor over empty foreign lands,
But in unspoken crystal caves
I make my way on burnished sands.
The past is my persistent guest,
It always travels by my side.
With every step upon my quest
It counsels me, a steady guide.
The future is the great unknown,
It holds the key to happiness.
All that we have is ours on loan;
We leave this world with more, not less.
©2016 Michael Fraley
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