As the winds roar,
And the oceans whip,
She stares steadily on,
Trying to find the piercing light,
The beacon of hope,
That will guide her home.
Her ship has been tossed and turned,
Pulled this way and that,
Through raging tempest.
Quickly now, she’s losing hope,
Her direction is lost,
And fears infest.
The sails are torn,
The mast is splintered,
The anchor severed,
But still she fights,
The bounding waves,
And stormy weather.
For she is not weak,
Nor small and frail,
She holds to hope.
Land, she will, upon her feet,
To see the sun,
And dock her boat.
And now the light.
Like a beacon bright it shines,
And highlights gold the shore.
As the sun ascends, the sands take in,
The ship which fights no more.
The bastion of hope for every soul,
Who sails the waters deep,
Draws close the tired and wounded heart,
And bids her down to sleep.
The storm which once did plague her,
Is now gone without a trace.
Instead a cool and gentle breeze,
Breathes life onto her face.
The lighthouse which she ever sought,
Now touches at her feet.
Beyond are trees and vineyards,
Bearing fruits that she might eat.
And passed that are the valleys,
Filled with lakes, streams, and rivers,
And every bird and water trickling,
Sings the song that she’s delivered.
And how the mountains rise up mighty,
Like great towers to the sky,
Traveling high above the clouds,
Where even eagles cannot fly.
And so the prologue is now ended,
Now the story’s set in place,
As she travels towards the palace,
To look upon her father’s face.
-Taylor Glenn Pritchard