Without the moon or stars to guide his sight,
without a glint from shanties down below,
he rested on the foggy hill that night,
and begged the heavens for a tiny glow.
Despair turned into dream... a little boat
with fishermen inside in search of faith,
a boat which, neither sinking nor afloat,
now blindly drifted past a drowning wraith.
And he among them, but incapable