Archive
08/01/09 - (2)
The Descent
At various longitudes of our latitudinal lives, We lose our headings, get away from ourselves, Or at least seem to have a propensity for doing so — That all too human tendency To miscalculate the lay of the heart's uncharted waters, Stray off its incomplete maps, Into strange places we have no sane business sailing.
And when we finally reckon our grievous deviations, Realize that there's no rectifying our destinies' sea changes, That navigating between Scylla, limbo, Charybdis, and hell Would be impossible even for Jason, Odysseus, Satan, Our lonely spirits commence the harrowing descent To melancholy's, desperation's fathomless depths, Knowing Davy Jones's bone locker awaits our cargo.
And that's what happens when love's fragile vessel Crosses frog ponds and oceans, alike, capsizes, Scuttled by mendacity, mistrust, disillusion, Never arrives at its destination, All aboard lost, in anonymity's mortal storm, And no one the wiser, save death, Which has no vested interest in the enterprise, anyway.
08/01/09 - (2)
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