Clouded by the mundane myth
That all is good and all is bliss
I creep outside my vessel chipped
Deceives me when I least expect
I’d push it out to open seas
And search the coves for whispered pleas
To mute the loneliness that swells
Like waves around my vessel’s sails
I search for minds who’ve found nothing more
Than these wretched unpleasant shores
With vessels cracked and splintered decks
They jumped ship to avoid the wreck
And yet here I drift with vessel still
Have I the nerve to leave the sails unfilled?
With winds of change and a breeze of hope
How else will my mind cope?
With the truth that all vessels are chipped
Not a single sail is free of rips
It’s how you sail the open seas
And what you do with the breeze
That keeps your vessel afloat
For here you find no life boat.

Oakling
November 13, 2003