The engines of the great ship rumble below.
Turning shafts and men shoveling coal
propel us through black calm waters
as we pulse forward under a half moon
and scattered cotton clouds.
The distant lights of Morocco dust the
sky above the city. Nations gather in
the streets, music rises but we hear
only the wake of the ship cutting a
watery dark path.
The pillars of Hercules, Jebel Musa and
Gibraltar border our passing as we merge
into the open Atlantic, deep with souls and
wide with arms waiting for us; we stir
the waters with respect.