pioneer drift

sometimes it feels like you’re all alone
in a solitary boat without sails
or oars or even a rudder, in the middle
of the ocean, and though you are sure
you are not the first in these waters, there is no sign
anyone has gone before – how could they leave
any clues to help you find your way?, with the waves
constantly moving, the terrain ever
              are there people calling out from the shoreline,
barely visible across the distance, in the glare
of sun in a cloudless sky – cloudless
untilthe wind changes with your luck and the sky
darkens to grey and the air between is as wet
as the depths beneath your somehow shrinking
boat, but it feels appropriate, the rain, inside
and out now a matched set of gloom;
are you doomed
to drift
in this abyss forever? or will one of those voices
become embodied, will a fellow pilgrim search for fresh
frontiers beside you, or somewhere near you?,
might a bottle bob along beside you, pour out
a message from a former traveller, another time, a far off
ocean? could someone shine a torch from shore, hope’s
beacon reaching warm connection through the cold
                you search all around you, fearing most that you
will give up the search, wanting at the very least to no longer
feel like you are all alone out here in the


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