Upon a glassy sea of sapphire,
two equal winds suspend our men.
What good is mutinous desire
when forces such as these attend?
The southern wind propels us northward;
the northern wind impels us southward.
Their equal strengths thus cancel out,
and hence we move not north nor south.
Our hopeless map is weak and futile –
our whims are simply whims, at most.
We have no say in where we go –
we’re at the mercy of such reptiles.
How cruelly vacant Titans play,
whose empty sighs control our fates!
Dear Mike,
ReplyDeleteThis is a fine sonnet. Just description to
place the reader's mind upon the glassy sea.
I would find this in some seafarer's journal.
Thank you, Marie. I wrote this sonnet as more of a comment upon how external forces such as society shape our lives without our control, but I love to hear what other people take away from what I write!
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