Every ship leavine port on the blackest of nights
Has a definite destination;
Every match that is scratched, just as sure has its sights
On a smaller or great conflagration;
Every open-jawed wave is a part of a plan,
And the surf has a shore that it seizes.
Everything has an aim and a purpose but man
Who the will has to do as he pleases.
by Ray Romine Tuesday, February 8, 1944
