Trust...apon it's arrival I am unsure of it's solidity when based of unknowing I am still unknown.  Like a mariner's ship lost at sea only to find port and then find port is a mere mirage.  In his frustration, the mariner is found casting about the ship cutting rope and ripping sail.  "It was false, this port though I worked towards it so.  Ah, be dashed.  Is there no truth in this world?  Yet in his self recognition though he is realized he recognizes he is still alone.   Longing consumes him as some enlighten cancer infecting him with a painful brilliance.   The pain wracks his brain like some known yet opaque truth.  But there is faith... Then, soon, along the horizon, amidst mists of the storm, a shape, a perturberance begins to take form.   As it makes its way closer, fear arise like some clot in his gullet, fear of an unrecognized past.  Closer still it moves.  It wallows in the waves unrecognizable at first.  It is his first experience with this mysterious apparition.  In memory he recalls those he has lost on his trip, those who lost hope within the storm and retired overboard.  Their death was his fear yet it is not his death.  Death is too far off and it's aura, this perturbance, it's aura to brilliant.  It is neither flotsam nor jetsum coming to brush against his boat, causing  scrapes and scratches weakening his vessel.  Nor is it waves coming to overwhelm his ship, sending him lost to the abyss. He is lost to wonder.  What could it be.  Then, in his amazement, the apparition begins to takes shape.  It appears human yet ethereal like an angel from the depths.  Reeling through past recognitions he is at a loss to it's identity.  Could it be a whale or an illusion or some mystery of the sea.  Then reality strikes.  It is woman of the water, a mermaid the likes of which he has seen before.  They have whispered their ways, testing, doubting, tempting, looking to take him over changing mind, body, and soul.  Be damned he screams taking up arms I will be damned if I am lost to a witch of the sea.  But there is no response, no song, no seductive undulations.  Only silence and lidded eyes, pained eyes stareing within without intent or approach.  Beauty is evident but it is unnoticed.  Mere eyes of feeling, of truth, of soul.  He wonders to himself is it true?  Am I saved.  The apparition utters one word, a word that strikes fear in the hearts of some men and apathy in the hearts of others.  Love it says.  Immediately in entirety he is completely taken over.  His mind shuttered.  His heart fearful.  Memory apon memory cascade across his minds eye like the sense of being lost in the storm itself.  He finds himself traveling across continent and sea, from the depths to the heights, from fear to endless elation, into the unknown, unseen, unspoken, unheard.  He tumbles beneath the depths and takes flight amongst the clouds.  He is lost then found then lost again.  All with a word.  Time passes into endlessness and then into eternity and beyond.  His loss is immeasurable, his doubt depthless.  And then he awakens.  His ship safe.  The storm over.  He wonders, what happened...I was.  Total bewilderment consumes his mind.  He is confused but the uttering gives him hope. In it he remembers a word, Love, and a feeling.  It fulfills him with rapture.   In his utter joy and endless adulation he has a realization.  He is safe with love, and in that moment, as time passes into eternity and endless of the beyond, he recognizes, with truth, all is well.