I flail wildly
“I am enough!” I shout
“I am love enough!”
But my love runs to those who are vacuous
A leaf in the gale of my own making.
The lightest zephyr shoots me aloft
“The ego, the wise witch says, sails upon the the high seas.”
But limp sails lie heavy as they wait upon a single breath of the gods
Dead
Languishing
Sweating
Thirsty
“To oars! To oars” The crew finally shout
With the flick of a sail, the crew are quick to place their bets
Any movement is good for the soul
“Hoist the anchor” The Captain shouts
The crew cheer for they are merry to action
“We shall make movement, as we pray to the gods to fill the sails and hurry us to ports we so long to dock”.
The Captain holds the wheel – hoping to steady his desperate hands.
Little Wren 