Virgin Isles

Suspensefully, he extends his toe,
and dips the tip gingerly in
the clear, still waters that lay below,
to mar the surface with a sin.

The ripples dance, like shockwaves, out,
spreading, deepening, as they grow.
Reaching places they've never been,
where none before have dared to go.

As Captains sail uncharted waters,
as children trudge on fresh-laid snow,
as young men chase the farmers' daughters,
so to do some men long to know:

The thrill of a maiden expedition
Of being where no one has been before
Of volcanos erupting, of nuclear fission
Of washing up, spent, upon Heaven's shores.