When A Man Loses Sight

When a man loses sight of the shore
When the fine sand and the lovely beach
Cease no more
When his new voyage is cast onto new seas
Devoid of what he’s accustomed to
His heart pounds
Like a resounding gong

When the wind breaks the sails
When the compass is defective
And the sun is setting
When the turbulent waves and the raging storm
Breaks the wood and all left is but a plank
His heart pounds
Like a clanging cymbal

Is not the storm that breaks a man
Nor does the sight of death
It is not the turbulent wave
Nor the sight of the wrecked ship
That jitters his soul
But the loss of his compass
The loss of direction