FERRY
Do we, bereft of longing, yes, and waiting,
passively accede to crying winds and
lusty tempests? Who chides such a
shrill and angered night?
Some ferry, cutting waters both bound and
bursting, with milled candles ascends and
sways in oceanic time - whereon the doomed
ride and drink dry their coffee.
Out of rhyme? Out of time?
Dressed well, a reaper (Death) now o'er
the water comes - darkly with grim blade
and no smile at all - to scan the surface
of all which is before him spread.
The sick are walking the fevered plank,
hitting the water silently with but a splash
as their red eyes meet both their doom and dawn.
Tired the black waves lap the wood.
The bridge has been abandoned -
as the ship blends with the natural ocean's
slap and time, and the ragged bo'sun
howls. 'This is mine,' Death's voice
is heard to say 'no ferry's day in no
century of time can take any
of this away.'
Do we, bereft of longing, yes, and waiting,
passively accede to crying winds and
lusty tempests? Who chides such a
shrill and angered night?
Some ferry, cutting waters both bound and
bursting, with milled candles ascends and
sways in oceanic time - whereon the doomed
ride and drink dry their coffee.
Out of rhyme? Out of time?
Dressed well, a reaper (Death) now o'er
the water comes - darkly with grim blade
and no smile at all - to scan the surface
of all which is before him spread.
The sick are walking the fevered plank,
hitting the water silently with but a splash
as their red eyes meet both their doom and dawn.
Tired the black waves lap the wood.
The bridge has been abandoned -
as the ship blends with the natural ocean's
slap and time, and the ragged bo'sun
howls. 'This is mine,' Death's voice
is heard to say 'no ferry's day in no
century of time can take any
of this away.'
No comments:
Post a Comment