I’ve been to the crossroads
More than I care now to admit…
Even in cross currents
In the deep-winged ocean,
Lying at the horizon of riptides…
It is always a trixter figure waiting,
Yet beautiful…
They may be a devil, a siren,
But the answer is always the same:
Death….
But at ninety degrees lies the road
Usually ironically dark
Filled with thorns and brambles
That I must take to live….
It truly is straight and narrow,
This gate to life if one is to survive,
Though Nature be so liberal,
At these times
She commands we be conserving…
A night boat hugging the shore
To conserve fuel is what I’ve done
That life may continue for me
That the sun may still conquer
My tropic‘s humid and beautiful skies….
More than I care now to admit…
Even in cross currents
In the deep-winged ocean,
Lying at the horizon of riptides…
It is always a trixter figure waiting,
Yet beautiful…
They may be a devil, a siren,
But the answer is always the same:
Death….
But at ninety degrees lies the road
Usually ironically dark
Filled with thorns and brambles
That I must take to live….
It truly is straight and narrow,
This gate to life if one is to survive,
Though Nature be so liberal,
At these times
She commands we be conserving…
A night boat hugging the shore
To conserve fuel is what I’ve done
That life may continue for me
That the sun may still conquer
My tropic‘s humid and beautiful skies….
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