S.O.S.

S.O.S.

Are we but vessels adrift, left
Sailing with the wind,
That chance may sometimes
Befriend and deliver safely to
Some distant shore?

At other times chance, being less kind,
Might leave us victims to a loveless tide
To be pointlessly tossed about, until we are
Ruined, or shattered, or broken, then taken down?
Gone, gone and never missed again?

All of us but ships sailing
Freely for a little while,
Destined one day to be drowned
By weight of sorrows, or troubles, or cares,
Too great for any ship to bear?

Or, perhaps we are far more than we seem.
And guided by Heavenly Hands unseen,
Whose intent is to guide us safely home
Despite whatever winds may blow.
If, we will but let them do so!