When Occur the Proper Gales

When Occur the Proper Gales

Does a picture steal a soul
Or just leave it in one place
A stagnant piece, but hey, at least
You cannot let it waste

For to use the gifts you’re given
Is the greatest gift of all
But in terms of the mind, you’ll often find
They’d rather let them fall

When the wisest fish has told you
To swim the crimson tide
Can you reconcile and still beguile
Yourself not to run and hide

A sympathetic man
Has Inquisitions done
And made them glare at spike’d stare
And given to the count of one

Is there use in asking
To petition against your fate
Does fate exist or have I missed
The Writing on the slate

Wherefore do I travel
Which way do I hoist the sails
Where to go and how will I know
When occur the proper gales

To sit and stare and nothing more
To sit and stare at the filthy floor
To sit and stare, Do I even dare
To alter anything?

Feb. ’09