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I woke up to a grey dawn, I was dreaming of ships.  I pull out my map and count the miles between home.  Somewhere at the end of an invisible line traced by my finger is the only place I know, she s patiently waiting for me.

Sailing blog

i mentally scroll through the last year of my life, I’m content with everything I possess and even what I don’t.  My old tattered book by Pablo Neruda is beside me, I read my favorite poem, Here I Love You. A smile warms my soul, I feel at peace in his words while I wait to write my own.

Sailing blog

Here I love you.
In the dark pines the wind disentangles itself.
The moon glows like phosphorous on the vagrant waters.
Days, all one kind, go chasing each other.

The snow unfurls in dancing figures.
A silver gull slips down from the west.
Sometimes a sail. High, high stars.
Oh the black cross of a ship.

Sometimes I get up early and even my soul is wet.
Far away the sea sounds and resounds.
This is a port.

Here I love you.
Here I love you and the horizon hides you in vain.
I love you still among these cold things.
Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vessels
that cross the sea towards no arrival.
I see myself forgotten like those old anchors.

The piers sadden when the afternoon moors there.
My life grows tired, hungry to no purpose.
I love what I do not have. You are so far.
My loathing wrestles with the slow twilights.
But night comes and starts to sing to me.

The moon turns its clockwork dream.
The biggest stars look at me with your eyes.
And as I love you, the pines in the wind
want to sing your name with their leaves of wire.

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