To The Whaling Captain
Is it so different
This standing on the prow
staring towards the lack of clear
delineation
between sky and sea
between up and down
now and then
How to categorize the mysteries that compel us.
Stay up late in the rocking cabin
and index what you can.
We obsess over the giant that is out there
or has turned and moves right underneath
inevitable opponent
with as much need of us
as these distances themselves
And yet we are here
It is our eyes that are open
now
Mine open yours again
And the vessel that takes us
gathers speed
the sound of the wet ropes
pulling the canvas taut.
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