I flail wildly
“I am enough!” I shout
“I am love enough!”
But my love runs to those who are vacuous
I am but a leaf in a 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 with me as they wait upon a single breath of the gods
Dead
Languishing
Sweating
Thirsty
“To oars! To oars” The crew anxiously 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”.
The Captain holds the wheel – hoping to steady his desperate hands.
As he prays for lofty winds
With hope for sustenance from any port they can desperately dock
Little Wren 