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Sometimes the routes mapped for you, bon voyage |
Longboats I struggle as our souls pleat, in this endless summer haze; I bristle 'neath your heartbeat, I wither in your gaze Attention I don't oft see, in games so rarely played; a feat, which I'm not worthy, frozen, bound in feats of clay Hating just how pliant, how dependent I've become; In the shadow of a giant, in the soft glare of her sun A ball of light, that's smaller, yet seems to burn so bright; 'neath barren moons I call her, longing for her light In darkness, our defendants, line up long, to take an oath; a loss of independence, 'midst a guilty burst of growth A shock to stringent systems, to such cultures of the heart; as valves and burnt-out pistons, sporadically, they start Twisting, turning, pumping, as a fire climbs the gauge; listing, burning, thumping, out to sea, as flames they rage Washed off course and out reach, from where we used to be; afraid to speak, to note the breach, alone we burn at sea Somehow, someone struck a match, staid embers flare, we burn; fires mutually detached, we drift as pages turn Letters, words and sentence, spun, stray paragraphs are lit; as tomes burn in repentance, won, ... in chapters lost, we sit Sitting still as bridges blaze, half formed across the sea; burning with the doubts they raise, connections we don't see Lost inside, mariners' rimes, an ancient ocean wends; silent unlogged flames, they climb, we face a viking's end Some journeys aren't completed, closed, some shores are never reached; some tides roll undefeated, coved, spent ashes line the beach of sails torn from fire born, and masts we couldn't climb; a perfect storm, a brand new dawn, with oars now kept in line Struggling as souls burn, lost, mute echoes call your name; Bristling, such heartbeats cost ... I wither in your flame |