The boat

Yearning for the sea and the boat,

I cannot have both.

How will I swim over the Death?

The sea is battering,

the tempest leaned to touch the waves,

where is my boat?

I used to behold that splendor,

I used to worship the shape and the colors,

Yet I have never touched the boat,

I had a respect and fear, but still in awesome reverie,

I drew a picture and wrote poetry,

composed a song and have never stroked the boat,

My iris mirrors the roaring sea,

I used to sit in the shade of the boat,

I would play on the guitar day and night,

I exalted God for the boat,

in the night its shadow was bright,

But now I ought to choose the one.

The sea is demise and the boat needs...