Adrift

Ever the undertow has its sway,
And current pulls from the bay,
Features fade in the horizon,
As the sphere yet emblazons,
On scorched cataract corneas,
Above gurgling glossolalias,
It's seal.

Then tide takes from the tow,
The hapless pilgrim cargo,
Now lost to all stories,
And the daily banalities
And in the ebb and the flow,
Resigns 'ere the winds blow.
Lost steel.

And as the pitch and the roll,
Ever again take their toll,
Limbs surrender to the surf,
No longer dreaming of turf,
Scalded sight in empty stare,
A ghost for Davie Jone's lair.
End ordeal.