The Sign

I wake to find a scene unkind, on vessel I do stand. Adrift at sea, lost, scared and cold, in desperate need of land. “Why am I here? Where should I turn?” “Which course should I set sail?” I try to keep myself composed, but all my senses fail. Rotating, searching, looking out, no means to know the way. And so, I drift with every wind more helpless day by day. “Shall this continue endlessly?” “Shall sea become despair?” “A purpose there must surely be, a course to chart… but where?” Then pausing, pondering, opening up, a prompting, “Look above”. In distant sky, a wisp of white, a sign of hope - a dove. “Set sail!”, my heart cries. “Follow thence until you reach the shore.” Yet speed I’ve not. I fall behind. The sign I see no more. But all’s not lost. The way I know, if to this course I’m true, then home I shall be once again… my mansion built anew.