Show Me The Truth at Sea-Level


I wish to go a-sailing
and ride high tides and
low swells while the ship
I cling to dearly sways
to and fro and port and

while I stare down deep
through the roiling froth
and flashing wash I
would start to know
that my wit and strength
and even my love is an

as my muscles tense and
my eyes begin to water
I will understand
between a great blue sky
and a great green sea
how absolutely
I am

then the angels would glance
down, and so, ‘Look at my ship!’
I would say

but they would glance
away from me, again

because absolutely paltry
is an overstatement, too
among these crashing waves

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