Repentant

A sinking
reflection and reflecting
on our situation, ourselves
poured from
the heavens, galleons and lines,
soured on work
and un-impressed,
fell upon pillars of drowned sunbeams,
a bed of coursing phantoms
living and dead and allegorical
and skeletal hulks.
At this depth
there's a lot of weight pressing down.
Fire and water
and that nighttime fog giving an illusion of place
to this vast empty
spirit of the time
and unholy noises and crashes
is not much of an education.
And honor,
respected,
is sometimes a shorter voyage
and an easier way out,
but these decisions are
culturally-specific.
And we
polychromatic
but less so every day
in turqouise wood and steel
breathed deep of the ocean,
drinking it like Coca-Cola,
and found new worlds to,
drifting,
explore, but nothing
to find.