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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