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Saturday, March 17, 2018

Old Salt

Man hoists a sail to fly upon the wind
in spray and storm; to scale the mountain sea,
a virtue that can feel as good as good as sin
and moves us near to heaven; ecstacy
to fuel the human spirit. God’s decree
was that our salt should match the sea; that this
would charge the very blood that flows in thee.

A sailor bleeds of nature’s dark abyss
and lives to taste her deep primeval kiss.

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