#1028448 added March 13, 2022 at 12:05pm Restrictions: None
muddled
in a muddled craft
at my core
on a lake
in my wood ship,
hands anchor to oar,
light in a fog
in my night,
slap the water I could fight.
am I making progress?
do I know where to go
or should I sit back,
wait for the lift,
hope the stars glimpsed
dazzle and show?
as stationary as me, it seems.
is this life, a dream, a scheme
to get my arms to row?
I’m not lancing windmills.
I’m all alone.
I make a din ~
too quiet, you know?
how’s this end?
with time I forget until woozy again,
commander of a sturdy tub
and no navigational equipment.
no desire to man this craft.
nothing tugging anymore.
3/5/22
when the internet is down, these thoughts coalesce.
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