Mariners

Mariners in our wanderlust, We sail beyond the horizon’s curve. Fearful, we dare the briny deep Out of faith in the dreams we serve. Rough-hewn by years of knots and coils, Our hands hoist up the canvass sails, In the ways that the ancients toiled, To cross the many-fathomed deep. The muted moaning of the masts; The pitch and the roll and the yaw Of wooden hulls upon the deep; The wondrous fear of freedom’s call. Daredevil dolphins rise and roll, As fleets of flying fish fin by Pursued by patrols of petrels Winging o’er foam and stinging spray. We plough the mirrored Milky Way, Bright on the obsidian main, As pale phosphorescent plankton Stream by beneath the midnight moon. Monsters revel in the tempests, Risen from out the great abyss. They lurk in misty fjords, off port, Glowering in the wine-dark sea. The heartbeats of our bodies blend The ancient rhythms of our cells With the rising, falling rhythms With the siren rhythms of the sea. Mariners in our wanderlust, We behave like a swarm of bees, Spreading the pollen of culture To the four antipodes.