I was on a ship not long ago

That seemed destined to reach the horizon soon.

But you could tell from the growling and grinding of the engines,

The furrowed brows of weary seaman and bleeding deckhands,

That the captain’s dream was paved with  bloody sacrifice.

Our lives became a living dreamtime story.

Blurring sunrise and sunset till the holy Sabbath

Became depressing metaphor.

I saw the flag fluttering proudly in the breeze.

I saw the wake around the steaming ship.

And I saw the  debris of all our collective consciousness.

Mechanical and methodical, we followed the course

Till the blinding glow of the sun blinded all remorse

Of  the brethren at the  helm.

Like Icarus we burned our wings

In the searing heat of a captain’s call,

 And plummeted into personal voids silently.

I looked at friends and family slipping further from my sight.

And then made a momentous plunge into the sea.

Alone, cold and cold shouldered by SOME who know of my intent;

Braving the sharks of doubt and doubtful recompense.

But I was free to dream my dreams and ride the waves

Of my own choosing.

So now I waltz to my own version of Whitman’s  tune…..

O Captain My Captain,

Our fearful trip is not done!

For behind your back

Your seamen are weathering every rack,

For some prize you sought and won,

But O heart! Heart! Heart!

O bleeding drops of red,

I am grateful that  upon the deck

It’s not my heart that lies,

Fallen cold and dead!