|| Noun ||
Like a piece of shipwreck I float
Up. Down. Up. Down. Where do I go?
Neither shore nor help have my eyes set upon
Along with the tirade I flow
Have I nowhere to be?
Have I nowhere to live?
I chanced upon a lone island
And as though I’ve lost touch with the world outside –
I eat and I sleep when others do not –
I have turned rogue.
I spot another one of the debris –
It washed ashore onto my island.
I know not what to do
But a voice nags in my head like residue
So I took it into my care
Like a miscarriaged mother reunited with her stale born child.
Oh how my cheeks burn!
Those feelings that once caused me to drown
They healed my injured butterflies
Now they make an awful lot of sound.
Have I somewhere to be?
Have I somewhere to live?
Surely for two wrecks to meet
They both have something to give
To him I heal
To me he comforts
And although damaged by the waves
We are parallel in how deep we hurt
Though it must have hurt and though it still does, one is destined to meet another who equals in emotions and situation. Another that patches up your hole not by stuffing it with cement, but with the emptiness from his own hole.
” Life is a shipwreck, but we must not forget to sing in the lifeboats. ” – Voltaire