The secret of St. Paul
Who revealed the secret
Along with his flair for words
And the music of his speech
Was his willingness to travel
To wander the sea without a home
Think of the kind of thinking
He could do hunched in the prow
Of some ship searching the horizon
In calm and in storms
Asleep or in conversation
With the Lord his companion
What he would write
When he got there
If it would be understood
I wonder how many of his letters
Went astray like the ones
He wrote to us still
Arriving still unread
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