I'm in a rowboat on the ocean
Struggling in the waves
Two oars provide the motion
There's no wind in sight today.

Just a whirlpool of activity
A hurricane of hail
A gulfstream of flying fish
Jumping brisky in its sail.

While the sun beats down its moonlight
So brightly growing pale
Upon the grim, fluorescent ocean
The fish inside their ocean jail.

And I pass by in my rowboat,
Oars in water, air, and back.
They keep pushing, then they're pulling
Tearing wakes as liquid tracks.

Teardrops dripping from the handles -
Wood that once stood tall as trees
Broken down into these paddles
Cruelly chopped off at the knees.

As their tears and ocean mingle
Sharing salt, and sharing sap,
I put aside my useless rowing
Give my life up to a nap.

Trusting currents, waves and nature,
To keep my path true, me from harm.
Mother nature with her goodness
And her all-deceptive charm.

She who calls upon the forces
Trapped inside a molten shell
Upon whose surface we do tread,
Inside whose depths we rot in hell.

As I trust her saintly judgement,
That she won't send huge typhoons
That she'll follow tidely patterns
Water pulled up by our moon.

Then I nap in her embrace,
Turning consciousness to death,
She rocks me gently, lulls my soundly,
Calms me with her salty breath.

And I wake the next bright morning,
Moonlight now replacing sun,
And resume my endless rowing
My journey hardly just begun.

© 2000, Michael Yanovich. www.mentalsnot.com