Vessel
Brooding sky, soaked in red,
cloudless, hidden eyes instead.
Dripping landscapes, broken lines,
burning planet, space and time.
Too much weight to drag and tow
shadow captain pilots know.
Raging currents, reckless whims,
presage flatter, calming conditions.
Her vessel floats alone, she drifts
with battle scars and sleepless lists,
trails of wreckage, the foaming sea,
in her wake I follow distantly.
Myths of luck like rudders hold
legacies, the stuff of stories told.
Copyright © James Fredholm | Year Posted 2013
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