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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!
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