" Rower"

[piecemeal]

Mist we are, breathed into a span of time.
Born from the heart and mind,
of the great I AM.

Cloaked we are, in hide, flesh and bone.
Soul's shelter, but not home.
listless, I drift.

I look, seeing a distant shore.
Waken and labor at the oars.
Nearer, but not there yet.

To be free, made whole and not alone.
A land to call my own,
and someone to love.

Still far off. Clad in aching shell.
With pain just shy of hell,
within my breast.

So I pull. I pull against these oars.
Eyes locked on distant shores.
And I dream of home.