Musings of a Sailor/ Shanty of Love

A word is a word until it is strung together with invisible wire to form a sentence. A sentence is a sentence until feeling is imparted, like paint to a canvas, to make it a poem. A poem is a poem until music is played alongside to make it a song. A song is a song until is it sung from the heart to convey love. As I drift in and out of my dreams, I wonder how much of a part my heart plays in the fictitious journeys I take in my mind. It makes one wonder if our dreams are fleeting views into different realities, images we are not meant to remember. Lands of rich green countryside, stretching to the horizon; castles and parapets, impossible creatures that talk, fly, and possess strange abilities. Futuristic wonders, metallic sheens and fantasitical technology. Or reliving alternate realities where choices may be taken back and reconsidered. Life follows a different path, like the butterfly fluttering off into a new world where the unknowing stranger, instead on crushing it under his foot, spares it's LIFE.
LIFE is as fragile as the stars, as vivid as the radiant sunset, as complex as the designs on a single tumbling snowflake, and as quick as an inhale of sharp winter air. On our journeys in the vast sea of life, we set our sights to distant goals, only recognizable through our convenient spyglasses. The various parchments that litter the deck map out our course as we attempt to conquer the obstacles that may eventually lead to treasure. Whether it be for glory, for riches, or to discover (or rediscover) love, we keep our eyes on the horizon, sailing at the speed that best suits our need. Though our journey may be fruitful, there is as equal a chance that we may come out empty-handed. It's a gambit every adventurer takes. On my vessel, my voyage, I am wary. Like the very greed that brought many a pirate to Davy Jone's Locker, I too succumb to my personal desires. Sailing through unfamiliar waters, staving off strange creatures and weathering out the nastiest of weather; I know somewhere in the back of my mind that I am likely to fall short of my horizon, or more likely to find that, in the end, there was never really any treasure. Like an oasis in the desert, it may all be merely a mirage to my hungering eyes. I do know though that though my vessel may be on the wrong course, there is equal possibilities that I may find a trove or a single valuable jewel along the way. For all I know, the right opportunity will cross paths with me, board ship and sweep me away along a new, exciting flight. Until that day I follow my heart, my mind, my eyes, my instinct like every explorer before me and every other one out there, lost in the sea of life. Until that day, I will enjoy the journey, for that is where happiness truly lies.