Our Captain

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Our Captain

Poem — An Invocation to The Master #28

A dross is on my gifts, a pain lines my smile,
My brow’s arch is cracked by sorrow,
My tread echoes on this too long mile
That recedes farther a better tomorrow.

In the outgrowth of the human tangle,
The beguiling web I hew through,
Every moment is a danger’s wrangle,
Each step is an adage to the untrue.

Through the storm comes hidden hands
Wresting from within some rooted part,
In aftermath I see bleeding remnants,
Its why and wherefore not mine to intuit.

How many selves within for time to slay,
Each rising for culling with reluctant brow.
Of these perils thronging the human way
No philosophy explains the why or how.

The winds of fate care not for our ship
Of cares and loves and dear purpose,
They rage in skies with lightning whip
Lashing mast of will and limb of oars.

But the helm must be manned no matter
For to our Captain we must make answer.