A wisp of smoke in the wind,
With the first grasp it is gone;
Lost as a figment to the imagination’s whim
The scriptures upon my tongue
Held within for fear
Locked up as if we both were unaware-
As if there were no Charybdis,
******* and yearning at the ocean,
For one small glimmering ship upon the horizon-
And, of course,
This horizon I doubt I will ever reach.
A symbol upon the light,
Who am I to touch the stars
So far, so bright,
That I may become one among them
And frolic in the shimmering pools of the sky
As if I were a god among men
As if I could achieve a dream-
Yet in spite of the chaotic
Swirling whirpool below me
I hold on,
As if that wisp of smoke would rise-
As if that ship on the horizon
Would hear my plea
And rescue me.