Wave after wave, furtively, its moves away
From the grounded embrace of its home port.
I was born on Terra Firma, unaware that one day
I would straddle the oceans on a long-distance journey.
Many a sea I have roamed:
Arctic seas, boisterous and choleric,
That failed to make me sink in the abysses of despair.
Tropical seas, calm and cheerful,
That granted me asylum when I went there for refuge
To regain health, strength, and courage
After being tossed around by the tempests in their rage. …
Here I stand now, on the threshold of my sixties,
My purse empty, but my heart filled with eclectic souvenirs
Amassed along the way:
Invaluable friendships polished by the backwash
And which, for sure, are well worth their weight in gold,
White seashells, golden pebbles, old almanacs…
I know with certitude that the customs officials of the Great Beyond
Will wave them through without a frown or a question.
Yes, these unpretentious treasures will escort me in my astral voyage
Toward the enchanting shores of the Mansion Worlds - my next
My life is reaching its low tide
Anyas Spencer, Medford, Oregon, July 26, 2013