Posted in Writing

Poem: The Captain

The waters are calm tonight
Pristine.
And the boat
Blinding white against God’s deepest blue
Slices paths through foaming waves
With immaculate precision
Calculated down to art

And at the hull, the captain sets his jaw
Eyes deadlocked, straight ahead
He sees nothing, save the land yet unseen

So the crew grumbles and their muscles ache
The cupboards are all but bare
And their throats, hoarse and dry
Dare not question the man
(At least not to his face)
So day and night the stoic captain stands

Unmoved.
Unhindered.
Unflinching.

Sail on, my friend
Sail on

You’ll get where you’re going
But you’ll get there a hell of a lot faster
If you’d compromise a little now and then

(Or would you?)

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