by Greer Garrison

Created on: June 07, 2008   Last Updated: June 23, 2008

Afloat

I feel adrift... like a tattered wooden plank... floats on the high seas
It is so beat up, from crashing against the boulders
It wants to drift away, to the salty depths of the sea
But it was made to be so strong, by a master's hand,
That it has no choice but to continue to float
There are constant waves... up and down, side to side...
The imbalance is constant

Staying level is always a challenge
Occasionally a friendly seagull will prop itself up on its rough, edged boards
But after a while even the gull can't seem to handle the unpredictable waters
The board drifts on... wondering why no other board looks like it does
Feels as rough as it does
Why it seems to be just a board, for others to break them selves against
As much as it hates the rapid pace
The board finds itself longing for the endless shift of turbulent waters
Carrying it to a new place, never knowing where that place will lead
It is a lonely life, one filled with many uncertainties
But occasionally, a cool breeze blows and gently carries the plank into safe waters...
Where it is warmed by the ever shining sun
The plank finally finds a small piece of high ground, to rest it's weary head
As the sun sets, the plank dreams of a time when a master builder
May find it's tattered, rugged body and sand and refurbish its boards...
Back into what it was originally made for...
Not to float on unending waters
But, to glide through the open seas with an ever present destination in mind

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