Lost at Sea
A smattering of light, no more.
A porthole. Just enough
to remind you all is not darkness,
no matter how it feels, enough
to highlight the things left undone,
and the things left to do.
A private showtime,
a private beckoning to continue
even when you are lost at sea.
About this poem
One of my start-up poems, one of my tools against depression. Once I write that I am getting myself going, I feel an obligation to actually get going.
Ah the games we play with ourselves. But sometimes, the games are good.
Off to work,
PS: The picture was taken at Battleship Cove, a ship museum in Falls River, Mass.