Moving on


A ferry
To an island from a city.
Not ready,
Me, for this journey.

I stand at its stern
Watching it, its way burn
Across the seas

Leaving a wake in its trail
Fragile and so frail

Hoping against hope
That someone,
Has spotted it
And cared a whit

To follow its foam
And lead it back home
Before it is too late.

I venture to the ship’s bow
In an attempt at bravado.
But the wind is cruel and cold
And stifles me so,
Till even my breath I cannot hold.

The fog smothered shapes
Of lands far away
Veiled by mystery and in danger, draped
Hold me in no great sway.

Who am I ?
Neither a pioneer,
Nor an adventurer.
To feign pleasure
In peril.

But in a ferry I am,
To an island from a city.
Though I’m not ready
At all, for this journey.

The question to ask
Is not why, but what
To do
To survive.

To neither stand at its stern
And regret the past
Nor to stand at its bow
And fear the future

But to stand at its starboard
And watch it make waves
And destroy them
In a never ceasing rhythm.

Forward and backward
Backward and forward.
Round and round.
Life, as they say,
Always goes on.

Explore posts in the same categories: lyrics, poems and quotes, travel

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