Upon a sea of glass I'd set my sail,
awaiting another dawn's new light.
Approached the hour and morning's
seething gloom gave way to blood.
Tempest on my bark weighed down,
gale did her tear, but clouds were
Dry, so parched I became as naught
there was . . . no drop to drink . . .
Days crept in, nights lingered on, and
prostrate I lay for uncounted hours
Till, at last, an angel came nigh and
declared my hour had arrived:
"Sailor, arise, and set your sail for the
west, where scarlet skies e'er prevail."