Tack No More
by Steven Craig
Something special has over taken your thinking.
Something I wrote
Made you change the direction of your sails.
Passages are always narrow for the mind to steer when the wind is freshening.
The ropes are taught from the gibe to the gunwale,
it nearly tears at the rings bolted to that green painted wood
you are pulled away from where it was you have been.
Rocks and shoals are on the charts,
But the skipjack can hold to course,
Weather the gale,
Behold the gray mysts rising on the edge of the earth.
No chart tells the truth whole
In one sweep of the hand,
Not without warning would I council you
Minds merge into one in that sea,
They lash down the yardarm rigging in manners now
Not usually seen on the shore
There is always a joy
In feeling the bow rise in the wind,
There is always a smile below the sharp standing watch,
The spray careens past resting ears
.
There is always a power there,
An energy that knows no map,
Even when beyond its edge there be dragons.
You chase the power held in that hand,
You will grapple with the force that compels
You to submit to that end,
That you would never turn back,
Once direction is upon you and
You have heard the sirens song in its full lust.
You are hostage to your needs.
But you will not find its release
Not before you nearly perish in its pursuit.
Bravely you change your heading
Know the fine moment of the minds
Keeping with time,
In open laughter you wave
Good-bye
To the mainland
And take up your venture
upon that open sea.
08/25/2007
