The Existentialist


I am

A ship without a captain.

I tread water quietly, lap-ping at my sides

It pushes and pulls me softly...

Calmly I sway in the direction the water calls,

Just as I always have.


Suddenly, the wind turns.

The tide pulls  now,

Sucking at my metal rivets,

Tugging me from   shore.

It releases me into                     black current.


I am

A captain without a ship.


I find myself

in the black waters.

Fettered by confusion,
I sink.

I seek for any buoy, anything that floats

That can save me from this drowning.


My head slips
below the surface.

Black water clogs my lungs.

I spit fire.

I am desperate for a hold as

I thrash about in the murkiness.

My toes desperately search for solid sand,

Anything solid.


I tread nothing but dark water;

There is no buoy.

I wonder why the water is so dark in the middle of the day,

And I find myself immersed

In the cast shadow of my own ship.


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