Short month by month, eternal day to day,
Battle to keep deepest sorrow at bay.
The world oyster awaits by sharpest knife;
Sodden deluged spirit feels only strife.
Midas’ tailor dazzles with gold on loom,
Dankest depths bring twilight of opaque gloom.
Pounding heart, heaving chest, weight of drowning’s press;
Seahorse rider fights tide as knightly quest.
Whether minstrel, warrior, sage or clown,
Treading horizon’s view is future drowned.
Stagnant pools of torpid mortality;
Vile dank slough, harbor of vitality.
Taking arms against a sea of trouble,
Bard’s work on broken masted caravel.
Doldrums days of stagnation on Dead Sea
Wherefore have sun and moon abandoned me?