Sail

Sail

 

I made a one-man yacht,

when I was innocent and young. 

I painted my dreams onto its navigation chart, 

and my iron will onto its mast that extends long. 

 

I set sail on a day fair and clear, 

crossing the winding river of mortality.

I didn’t pay the river a penny of fear, 

cause my destination was the bank of eternity. 

 

My yacht slipped into a thick fog of desire,

blurred by its seductive humidity, 

Then my yacht strayed into a blinding fog of greed,

inhaled its insidious morbidity.    

My eyes were amused by endless mirages,

my heart was immersed in the perpetual empty.