Beyond the ashen sea
lies a landlocked port
from where no ship ever comes
nor ever sets forth.
This is a city of impossible sailors
and dormant seagulls.
Only a solitary wreck claims its sunken void,
bearing an eerie cry:
“horror is nigh, horror is nigh!”
But from where shall such horror emerge,
if the expanse before us is nonexistent?
Pilgrims are left with buckets of nothing
to wash a derelict deck.
by Jason R. Forbus
I feel that this poem is a metaphor for life, in my opinion life is an ashen sea and we live in a landlocked port.
RispondiEliminaGood one
Stranded, we are waiting for the call of a crisp wind to break the tearing silence of the immense waste lying within and without us... to feel its vibrant energy is to set sail toward new adventures, new seas, new lands.
RispondiEliminaWhat are we if we dare not explore the immensity?