The Crest
Mother Nature, her behavior cursed,
Her blackness exposed, her canons burst,
Her fires bolting through the ugly sky,
Her speech proclaiming, “let freedom fly,”
Her movements like a cat up on the prowl,
Her actions living up to her avowal,
Her trumpets sounding battle cries,
Tempests rising and devils harmonize,
Building crests upon the submissive sea,
With hammer and nails from Satan’s decree.
She tosses our ship like a rag-doll in the maze,
Up and down, round about, with maddened craze.
Up to the crest, that perilous ascent,
High above the swells where sea-farers went,
Looking down with my nervous thoughts,
Will I get back up? My belly’s in knots.
Life is a love affair with angels and devils,
Assessed so carefully at different levels.
Will I fall before my time on planet earth?
Will I sup with the Almighty at my new birth?
Will I lie motionless on the padded gurney?
Is life just a sojourn on my eternal journey?
Oh what the hell, what can I do about it?
“Just take me wave. I’m at your command.
Take me wherever I must go.
Do it quick and easy and sound.
Good-by loved ones, good-by life.”
So to Davy Jones locker I went,
As I sunk down and down and down and down.
Into that dark and quiet maze I traveled.
As featured in "Greensilk Journal."
