How much light is needed to cut the darkness,
to tear that pitch of mystery, and dark-silent veil?
One warm strand:
Small boats on vast seas lunge forward,
bold with steady purpose on uncertain waves,
Soundless Beckoning:
Ever true, never fading,
For love and joy, the elder mariner keeps watch,
drawing ever nearer
the infinite warmth of the Great Lamp.
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The Harried Mystic 