- katemyers222
- Dec 27, 2022
- 1 min read
Updated: Feb 24, 2023
I’m not the Captain of my slip
Nor Marshall of my crew
The Admiral of the fleet of ships
Directs ours as he chose.
Ours is a small and wondering bark,
A coracle towards the Dawn.
Our Admiral turns the prow and marks
The path that we are on.
A poem for a new year -
Written when asked for a statement on the affirmation of God's control and purpose in my life and word.