You are the light
at the end of my tunnel,
the one who fills
my hope lantern
with its oils
so it may burn brightly.
You are many, my own safe harbor
of interconnected docking ships
at port,
import, export
coming and going
calling friends,
masts at rest.
I only wish I were
more something
and less other
are words I used to say
ways I used to feel
lacking conviction
promise and pride.
My ship has not faded
beneath the waves
to collect sea life.
I shall not fall
to the dark for I have you,
my many, my friends.