Flux
by Timothy Reed
“hold fast the lubber line”
white knuckles clutch a heading
but no tears, sweat, or blood
could make the needle swing or sway
no willpower could define,
no third eye divine
the way back home
the way back home
on this sea, dark as sin
mad as hell
grey as doubt
waves white-frothed with pride
no sun nor moon could ever shine
Polaris lies bound and gagged
behind a curtain, blueblack
and the cross of the South
shudders under Golgotha’s weight
no titan will guide
no hero will rise
"only hold fast the lubber line"
compass speaks
with quiet tongue
and humble words
“they are not mine”
“they are not mine”
“but give me grace to find
and emptiness to align
with the source
and the flux will guide
the way back home
the way back home”
“hold fast the lubber line”
