I am thousands of miles from home-
Yet I am home here, as well.
For in the sandy brine,
The deep spoke to me and told me of my destiny.
It was to unfold as do the waves,
In rhythmic repetition of genius.
My frailties are tender vines
Delicately wrapped around my heart.
They must be unraveled,
These tendrils,
So that the heart be allowed to expand fully.
And this destiny of mine-
She has been formed and shaped by the moments, ordinary and extraordinary,
That weave through my life
Like gold thread in a medieval tapestry.
I am a mortal who knows of the Divine Love.
This, this is destiny-
To ferry past the dangerous shoals
And come to rest in the fair harbor of Peace;
To articulate the polyphony of glory of the Celestial Spheres.
For that world is very dear to me,
Though far away.
I remember the ending of fairy tales,
And realize with gratitude that they are true.
For it is this world that can foster illusion
And seem to destroy all hope of
The feisty sparrow of happiness.
Oh, my sweet, gentle Muse,
I have known fear and despair;
And great peace and joy.
I have been an astronaut
In the universe of feeling.
I have ploughed the deep and found, in my wanderings.
The Pearl of Great Price, washed up upon the sand.
I hold It in my hand-
I am glad.

— Copyright 1999 by Arthur Charles Finmann