The Architect of Peace

The Architect of Peace



The day I decided to set sail,

was my transition from

past to future,

blindness to vision,

bondage to freedom,

fixed to afloat,

thinking to meaningful,

restrained to motivated,

incapacitated to revelation,

ceremonial.



As I canoed offshore,

I bade farewell to its limited function,

adrift, I inhaled deeply

the aroma of my true potential

to succeed and acheive

great things,

contentment with a simple log raft,

which I knew intrinsically,

my architect would determine

how large and complex it would become.



My appetite opened

whilst at sea,

my connection with the ocean

born planks of wooden thoughts,

put together with straps of grass,

that evolved over time,

and satisfied my hunger.

I hunted, sailed, fished,

and the peaceful ocean spoke kindly to me,

of a conceptual scheme.



I could hear

a presence of respect

in the winds of conflict/war,

an absence of agitation

in the repulsive, negative energy of the Dirac sea,

peace,

within and without,

timeless and independent,

parameters to peace,

my ionic lattice.



Heeding to its advice,

I formed alloys with all its elements,

and my vessel transported goodness irequitably,

in each circumstance,

I modified my vessel

from plywood and fiberglass compromises,

to solid wood of integrity,

distinguished.

I visited the drydocks/shipyards,

regularly, to carefully maintain my peace.



Sandblasted, painted, repaired,

sea creatures/algae removed,

launched back at sea, stern down, bow risen,

the taste of fearlessness,

ready to confront

ocean currents, tropical cyclones, hurricanes/typhoons,

social isolation, malevolence,

the face of adversity,

offensive, hostile, antagonistic

battleships, destroyers.



The resistance of

water, friction, weather,

neutralised by

my voyage to peace.

I submerge my hull,

cruise at fearless speeds,

fueled by coal, oil, nuclear power,

my diesel engine combusts

efficiency,

with electronic virtues embedded in me.



I steer,

rowing or pounding, paddling or propelling,

whaling or trawling, mooring or dredging,

coasting through reefs of pain,

its spectaular seabed soothing me,

never crossing the plimsoll line,

double-hulled in my ballast water transfer of conversations,

stabalised when carrying heavy cargo/burdens,

choosing each vessel wisely,

barge for unbearable thoughts, ferry for pleasant ones.



Autopilot in cable laying of communications,

in the deep sea of my transoms.

I gathered a fleet of ships in my lifetime,

but I know my end is inherent,

destiny created by my own

cause and effect phenomena.

Though never lost at sea,

sinking or shipwrecked,

my own diesel emits sulphur pollution,

and the acid rain ruins my existence.



No longer able to sail,

scuttled at sea by the forces

of corrosion and osmosis,

I rot,

I cannot breathe,

my heart squeezes,

but peaceful,

I gain rank at sea,

I become like breakwaters,

the Admiral of peacemakers.



In the discrete, luminescent ocean, its vibrational dynamics,

my quest for resolve, each zone,

the oblateness and bulge of my journey, many nautical miles,

the minutes of arc, the meridian of earth,

my many encounters with tow/tug boats,

their bullying and manipulating,

in putting them to harbour, in natural canals/rivers,

at varying knots per hour,

with no compasses, no lighthouses, no buoys,

averaged over time, gradually, defines me.



I await my collision with my architect now,

as I make peace

with others,

with myself,

with God,

within

and without.

The impact of that collision.

I know

lasts forever.



Poet: Simone Galy-Laquis