DEAD FISH ON A BOAT.
I languish in these hot summer days
So cold and bereft of loves scalding touch
I long to swim in waters all to deep
to flounder in their threatening chop and boil
to be consumed completely once again.
but here I sit so safe and dead a fish
upon life’s slow and ponderous boat
moored so tightly upon these stinking sands
that neither tide nor wave have any claim
on a prow so safe and so well grounded
I wrote this at at time when I no longer felt lake a man. How can a man let his life get to a point where he is bored by his own day to day life. Especially when he knows exactly what he wants? I am a fan of Ernest Hemmingway and I sometimes wonder what he would do if he were in my situation. Would he tell the whole world to go to hell and then go and do, rather than sit and think. For much of my life I hated nothing more than a coward. and now I feel like one, even though I believe that what I am doing is right, I would much rather do something else. So does that make me a coward. To do the “right thing” the think the whole world would say is right? I wonder.