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Then and Again

I’ve been out to where the big ships float -- both the container and the car. I’ve met men at spots not marked on maps, on cold nights without clouds to cover. I’ve sailed without the safety of an engine and without shipboard lights to guide me. And I traveled by a simple compass, without the promise of mercy if found by the storm.

From this, I have borne away treasure and feasted. I've seen the green flash off the still of the sea. I've bled on stained carpet in the dark of a morning and still looked for more in a fire of need.

And even dead of desire, I'd still ask for more --  To come back as an image, on the face of a stone.

So don’t ask if I know it, or question my sense. I’ve been there and back, with the fear in my body, both imagined and arranged. In this I’ve lost more than most'ed choose to chance, and I did not dream it.

No, I did not, it was what it is – and I’m still here for the telling; for the telling to you of the things I have seen. 

When you touch what you seek at the end of your travels, it’s the ocean you'll choose to accept your release. Either by grace or by pity -- nothing cheapened or damaged will  touch you again or try change where you stand.

There will remain the true and the false in everything, but you will now know the difference by the weight of your bones.

Mike Brady 2010


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