I Am The Ship Setting Sail
Far out, along the piercing line of the horizon, an anchored ship protrudes the deep blue. Cradled by Raphael’s feathered pearl throne, it awaits amongst the vast uncertainty of prosperity. Laying in isolation, out of sight out of mind.
Far out, along the piercing line of the horizon, an anchored ship protrudes the deep blue.
Alone, it is left to sing along to the woes of the whistling wind. Creating a harmony of disparity towards its misted future set upon the shore.
I am told the anchor is my grounding mechanism; connecting my conscious vessel to my pulsating body on earth. Resting, it is to prevent my craft from drifting beyond the blue. Yet, my search for surrounding sea life is unfulfilled. I am responded by the echo of my own thoughts.
The battling water reflects my abandoned ship.
I am absorbed by its depiction.
Leaning closer, I catch the weighted rust resting on the depths of thought.
It, which has restricted by voyage of being.
A growl breaks the intimacy of reflection.
My eardrums oiled from the hum of a resurrecting catalyst.
The filter to withdraw the head smog.
The filter that cleared the skies.
My awakened perception pulls with a force, tearing out the chains so grounded in old ways.
Where to now, in an ocean so vast and lonesome?
I recall departing from sand and soil, the nutrients of life’s cycle.
Entwining my grasp around the threaded rope, releasing the sail, lifting high and wide, capturing the gale of possibility.
Floating at a distance is a land undiscovered. It chimes with blinking lights; a celebratory reception for the liberation of a hindered sailor. Crossing the sea it will reach its Mother Land, reaching a tribe who will enlighten and foster.
Kerry O’Connor