stormy seas

therelies upon the horizon blue,
at dusk, in dawn, with tempered sway;
a mistimed word, which misconstrue,
makes fleet-fleet-fleeting, slips away.

this boat, which dingy, and threadbare,
could never fleet so long, so far;
to bear another year's seafare,
this weary wandering wonderer.

in search of sand, that promised hearth,
with warmth that taint of human hands;
bright stars to guide ones ship to berth,
give birth to and from distant lands.

but hark! 'tis there, beyond the blue,
what dreams to dispel solitude;
what beings that make for company -
what words circumvent platitude!
what hearts to warm the chilling nights,
what mouths for unutterable fights...
what hands that strike relentless force...
what screams that voices beck too hoarse.

perhaps it best to veer this course,
set sail for charters far from land;
that even in such deep remorse,
fault lies only in one's own hands?
for what is worth a sturdy lie,
if not but beaches, shores and strands?

so sailed again to horizon blue, with islands sinking to fathom's deep,
for sated is this sailor's thirst for woman's touch and man's deceit.