Without a map

It began like any adventure usually does—
A packing up, stepping out, and setting sail
From the port of ordinary;
A trepidatious risk
Upon the mere hint,
Hearsay, or dream of
Treasure.

There was no map in hand,
Only faint signs and senses
That something grand beckoned
To be discovered
Just beyond us—
Over countless steps,
Global seas, and
Unreachable horizons;
In languages and dialects
We could not yet
Understand or
Interpret.

And like any such journey goes,
There was sacrifice and failure,
Setback and challenge,
Not to mention the demands of
Grit and growth
While still on the expedition
Onward.

After all, ease is not why
Stories like this begin
Or tales like this are told
Generation after
Generation.

We may not be fearless pirates
Or brazen explorers,
Nor a band of heroes
Bound by a strict code
Of unyielding dedication to
Mission.

But we have surely proven ourselves
The authors of this story,
Captains of our vessels,
And trailblazers with only
The stars as our guide;
Or, in a single word,
What we always were:
Family.

There is no X to mark
Our destination—
No cave, city, pyramid, or
Even a burial site—
Where conflict will cease,
All loose ends will resolve,
And the credits will roll
Because we have finally
Arrived.

Still, we know—and hope for—
How stories like these end;
Through travails and toil,
Doubt and detours,
Maybe even some secret passages,
We will someday wind our way to
Finding... something—progress,
Ourselves, love,
Glory.