And which port does it
find a bottomless harbor
within which floating
field in place as if
tethered.
But the anchor has
not dropped
It remains clutched tight
against this chest
unwilling to the vulnerability
of stasis
of connection
to earth
of the denial of
the waterborne truth
that as tide and wind
so to, I.
In this unnatural harbor
the tide neither coming in
nor going out
the sails fall limp
spun and knotted around
my masts
unable to
outrun this ghost ship
of memory
of longing
of confused and contradicted
motivating choices
that must be made
must finally
drop anchor
or
set sail.
I need both.
want neither.
Am hounded by those
black sails
on the further horizon
Impossible to outrun
given infinite
wind &
time
It never relents
It never tires
It will never fade into
the unknown grey
mist of lost
memories
It is a truth from which
I will never
escape.
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