All is Lost
He thought, he thinks, time is running out,
Speaks his mind to the stars, hearing
The response in the the stays, spars, sails,
The Indonesian Strait's breeze carrying
Them eastward, taking them, one more time,
To the warm current and the white devil.
Stars don't listen, breezes don't care—
The course is set; still, he speaks, never thinks
To pray, the black devil is set, as well, on
Destiny, damning all that gets in his way.
So it is, onward, no recourse, it will play out,
But how can a man not try, at least try, to set
This right, before all is lost. Above—above
The shrouded wind, he hears the ivory step.
Poetry by jim
Read 147 times
Written on 2018-07-15 at 19:20
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