Soon I will sail into the west
again on clean-up duty
for the mess I had no part in making
and all you left in shambles
while you pretended to take notes
on the matter you created
and all that was ended.

If I do not sound elated, well,
such astute assessment is correct.
Truth will not be negated
notwithstanding ways you dissect
it as experimental and play
the dancing juggler so focused
on life's messages rescinded.

All ships have sailed.
What love had prevailed
despite all the heinous acts
has now been swept away to sea
and all that leaves is me
awash in seas full of plastic,
life polluted by your pretense.

Hence, this poem and my focus
while you practice hocus-pocus
and praise the false feminine
granting nine lives while 
secretly throwing knives
and going round and round,
killing time and putting off

Seeing yourself stranded there
sinking slowly into the dawning awareness
that all ships have sailed.
No man is an island,
and you've no foundation for
the falsity bought out and built up
brick by lifeless brick.

But this hard truth in this
just the facts poetic justice
does not erase the love with which
he loves and all the rivers running to you
that will fill this earth with a shaking joy
when at last we bring you home,
back to where you belong. 

The light of day comes quickly
and the advent of awakening approaches
from the east and new beginnings 
even where you thought all things were dead
and gone, long buried or erased from the record.
I know I sound like a broken one, but again I say,
All ships have sailed. Make your way home

Into the light of a thousand stars,
shining in the one true light not only in name
but as one with it, allowing the waters to rise
and fall down to cleanse you, to part you
from all the stories you created once upon
a time before this terrible, truth-filled time.
In the end, we begin. Are you ready?