I climbed aboard my own Santa Maria, sole captain and crew
Back when the cold was fresh and slung my blankets spread
From an old world I cast off, bright storms drifted through
To creak into a strange harbour, silent and dead
A world revealed to be even older, who knew?
Longer than that voyage have I stood watch
Maybe this has not been the bridge between lands
Where I have hidden; perhaps I have kept a commune locked
My own Jerusalem builded to the choir of cops'
Sirens, birdsong, workmen with their busy hands
Eleven sevens, plus one, and I would fain pause
To stay yanked to a halt on whatever twisted tracks
Yet the feeling unceasingly heaves at the fogginess of maps
For where may I restart, reanimate with cause
The umpteenth civilised destiny and its virtuous laws.
@nepion_boreas17
