I am slowly turning.
the left..
the right
my mind rehearsing again
the answers of the past.
what little flicker,
this glimpse of light
playing with my darkness
forebodings' grimy tune
and I fear that I am turning..
or my fears are turning me.
This chain is old
it has held fast for years,
years where it never needed challenging
years where it was rattled and dragged.
years where no vessel would ever trust it's hold.
and I fear that I am turning
for my bearings have me lost.
and the anger of old
assails the flukes
and the slick,
the slick,
sticky mud,
the cold,
it's clammy greyness
no longer finds me fast.
Where are the white sands of hope?
Where is the courage to let fly to the gale
and be thrust along by the now.
I am turning,
longing for tomorrow to yell
'freedom' to yesterday,
and I don't think that I can hold on
to the safe harbour
and her shores