An Ode to a Ship

With her pompous horn and a winsome mast,
Those intriguing aisles and the deck so vast,
With a proud nose that were to pen glorious tales,
Amidst hurrays and cannons she did set sail.

With determined rotors to cut the demoniac currents,
With sails to guide the winds that came in torrents,
With stoic mast that stood a symbol of her esteem,
For decades she wrestled the oceans’ gory seam.

And then that one gush that undid her sail,
The valiant rotors that laboured yet failed,
Alas! That one wave that finally humbled her deck,
The seas had conspired in this project of wreck.

The winds that bowed now deemed to vow,
The unsurpassable deck now at a piteous low,
The rudder that guided now forced to abide,
Her entire self trapped in the claws of the tides.

But, gauge her not by this heart-wrenching sight,
Her victories are greater than any ocean’s might.
The winds might threaten to ravage her frame,
But Time would step forth to declare her fame.

I know not her purpose or her destination,
I am not to judge for then, how come this aberration?
Keep her mast aloft O Lord, in Thy mysterious ways,
Grant her, her esteem and gift her Thy Grace.

This is in tribute to those heroes who did countless feats in their healthy days, but now are afflicted with diseases and troubled by age. They might be a pale shadow of their earlier selves, their bodies might have broken down. The world might write them off, but beneficiaries of their heorics must stand up and pray. Not out of sympathy but out of love.