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A cutter, on the edge of a star-filled night, Glowing reflection upon the water swiftly passing. Waves breaking on the bow, crashing through the surf The ship bobs and rocks, a strong steady course. Purpose abounds; the heavens guide the passage Of the stalwart yet delicate sloop. She appears hardy and she is, a proud monument To her creator, but common she is. Heed her vulnerability as she is just a ship, No less and no more. Ride her hard, test her limits, and push her To surpass even the best she thinks she can be But beware the strength of her sails, For in time, they are weathered and weakened Growing thin with age and the harshness of the salt air And rising mist from the very water that sustains her Keeping her afloat. They will soon shred and tatter Their usefulness gone And idle she will be Alone in a silent harbor. Copyright 1993
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