He is a tiny boat washed among
sky-high waves of a vast sea
fine that way
sailing alone, seeking sanctuary.
The foam of adulthood collect the surface,
unprepared, he waves a half farewell to youth.
Sail well! They say.
It all matters now.
A decision has to be made,
a luring swim to shore,
or to stage a coup d’etat against storms.
Easy choice!
Sizzling, here goes the last spark of courage.
He, still indulged in self-deception,
as a lowly whale stranded in shallow waters
uncomfortable in its skin.
His mind overwhelmed,
the howling south wind
evokes mental uproar.
Evading responsibility,
he waives the lead of helm.
Only this time.
Day to day, he mumbled,
trying to fake dignity.
Soon, tides arise,
water permeates the creaking hull.
Fear and resentment
evoke ancient roars of the rumbling sea.
Refute it all.
Lost in delusion, he muttered,
unaware of his soaking shoes,
his frozen soul.
His heart shrouded,
new mistakes,
new waves,
no one around.
Convenience,
the decorated name of Failure,
held in his palms,
cherished and protected.
Do not murk the waters too much!
He was told,
for the vortexes and reefs
there to be conquered,
for the future still comes,
no mind in wasting the storm.
Be the helmsman,
and direct the Age of Exploration!
