O wind, o air of present day wisdom. O insightful brethren of the gardens of reality. O ominous depth which no one has crossed in a day.
O head and eye, symbols of understanding and vision.
O hole, o void, on the floor of my being: consuming every normal thought I can muster.
O reflection of a reflection, distracting me from my first attraction.
Now I'm lost in this crystal cave of imagination, which breaths in the Spirit of the present day.
Was not this what I was seeking: to enter the boat rowing on this sea,
To look further in this void of my soul, which swallows every normal way and intention.
Rhymes here mock the true story.
Every creature of normalcy is swallowed by this nothing.
Only building a stronger ship and stronger rowing arms gets me further.

The Hood of the Worlds is worn by my guide
Sick with illness of body, this is the only way to cross the waves.
For nature is now forgotten, only winds of destiny remain.
Here comes the winds of despair blowing next to this ship without sail.
The writer's body fails mid-row.
Will the normalcy give it's cure to the seeker of the philosopher's stone, and cause this ship to sink?
The weird is precious here, but a day of normalcy before has shut weird's way as well.
I breathe into my gut the winds of sorrow, now the poison of malace wafta over the waters.
What will I stumble upon on this journey?
What could be in store for this adventurer?
Even the normalcy of the elements try to cure my disease of unrest.
Why not sail a ship by the winds of tomorrow?
With that last word, normal has bound my heart, now my limb.
I place my hand more firmly on the oars, but now wonder if I even need to row to find what I'm looking for.

I step aboard another bigger ship of a fellow seeker true.
He has sails that already blow,...with tomorrow?!
What have I done?
My poor boat was best, stricken by death.
But he reassured me: "I have food and supplies until sunrise".
But tomorrow is too normal still.
It's sun and Ray's, the billowing clouds, all make for me to sink back into the hole, the void.
Maggets fester, worms intrude, in the dark water.
Yet even these creatures' nature to decompose my body, is too normal for the void.
Being me, being man, being human, too normal too.
I'm only a spec, a mark, a dot, and once I manifested I get merged.
So I'll remain partially hidden in everything.

Is that what this is about?
That what I see is partially hidden for a point?
For a point to not sweep itself away?
Yes, the kingdom of heaven"in your midst" or "within" is just a way to keep the light just right for my own edification and entertainment.
Too normal this purpose is, for me to cross this void.
No, the point still hidden, that wondrous spec, is hidden due to weakness of me, it's observer.
Or else hidden and manifest would be one.
Look what I've found, I've come to "He".
A normal thing I do all the time, I know.
So this reason is too normal to bring a shade of new to this void, so peaceful it is.
"He" knows too much to seek out anything.
"It is you I seek" He says with utmost adoration of me, His subject.

If you seek me, and I seek to build a ship that can bridge the dark and the light, is your Ark, so strong, just another ship to poke a hole in?
"Why I don't know" was His reply.
I guess I'll climb aboard, and be His guest.
What do I seek?
A gem like no other, a tale fabricated that even I would be amazed at.
"I know what you seek" He says as He steers His Ark in it's direction.
"A million stars?" He asks.
"Even that is a common normal thing".
"A ship to cross them?" He wonders.
What is there our there that is more amazing than transcendence?
"Hmm, I wonder," He gives a smile of admiration.
"That's what I've said too" He agreesthe tale is told to a degree.

So stay away and leave me behind
The wind blows your sails
But you don't know what treasure I'll find
Cause I'll walk and I'll swim and I'll run to the ocean to find

You
Baby, it's true

The wind blows my sails
Faster and powerful than ever before
The gust fills the breeze and I'm back looking at the trees
And the land I once knew before

But know I've found you
In the breeze
A place I never thought I'd get to know
It's here a story so old
And a place so new in my heart
A place to start

The wind in my sails pulls me forward and I will not depart
Because I feel the breeze taking me where I don't know
I need to go
And I will find it
The sky above me
The waves the sails the sea
And I will find a place to call my own
A place on the sea
I'll find a place to call my home

when I was sixteen the only
three things
on my mind were : alcohol , Charlie
and a boat
to have a boat and swim away
be lost
surrounded by water
drinking with orcas
still
thinking of
Charlie

Love is a tidal wave
that one alone
cannot brave.

Unless it's a boat for two,
then the ocean is made
for the both of you.

The Little Bessy  molts its white chipped,
dull letters out to waves it cannot use.

Capsized on the rocky Maine beach, where  
it once fished for lobster in richer anchors,
the peapod displays its tattered nets on its hull
while the Man O War, filled with a haul of tourists,
bruises the gentle waves of Penobscot Bay.

Its oars are mounted on the lobster shack wall,
its sails framed in the nautical museum.
Abandoned are the days it was pulled
from its moorings on the wharf and sailed
through Penobscot air or spilled weighted circles,

days that were longer than any of its old parts,
times when old hands  hoped for better ways
never knowing they’ve come and gone.

Its broken, rusty anchor once met the spent waves,
the hands holding and releasing it down
to mate firmly with the mount, the moment
when the old lobsterer father firmly grounds
The Little Bessy’s wanton desire to push out to sea.  

Betrayed and exposed every day, run by no one,
Bessy drifts into beauty she never desired:
the pretty postcard in the wharf gift shop,
photos  taken by others rushing by in other boats.
when she was always meant to be the secret  
memory of the lobsterer hauling up his lonely pots.