Splayed on my shipwrecked life I drift and muse

Enthralled by spectral forms that rise and fall

As white caps crest along the rolling blue,

Wind fetched by storms now tamed to tempered squalls.

How vast the ocean, minuscule the strand

Who by the mighty main is ever tried;

Upheaved in ire upon approach to land—

Froth fisted fury, yet conquest there denied.

Ah still they come to flail the mighty down

As if by constancy they can prevail

And swell in force that nereids too may drown,

Spawned so by distant tempests, borne by gales.

Perhaps they’ve won here after all this time…

And I should now commend my soul to brine.

© Loubert S. Suddaby. All Rights Reserved