Paul and his friends went by sea from Paphos to Perga in Pamphylia.
A train of thought, the running sea.
So spiritual and calm yet sailing to questioning Judaea.
Implacable light, reflecting, blinding us so that land’s troubles we cannot see.
Yet in my own small boat, never far travelling.
Gentle Solent traversing.
Welcome anchorages unveiling.
Water rippling down the boat’s side, sails singing.
Alone no distraction,
No excuse to not sing forever of your love.
The wind shifts, going about, concentration.
And for you Lord from this surging sea a tranquil love.
The ropes laid out to berth side’s quay, a cup of tea.
But my vision of him in this bustling harbour place, I no longer see.