Dipsomania At Sea.. Poem by Robert Mutsaers

Would it be fair for me to say,
There are only two merits at sway,
The graceful move towards; with life and all its wit,
and...
The fearful groove to part; with strife and all its grit.

When we trust I must fear,
When we must, being then becomes clear.

It is near for me to alleviate,
When I defy, blessed in what we intoxicate,
Is not my soul I trust, its a you I foresee,
The blanket of sin that is appropriating me.

When you flare to see with pray,
There is just one merit you array,
The peaceful move towards; a gift of fear and its lover,
And suddenly, when the fearful proof has to outsmart,
You still meander and wonder,
Who has to part..., or come over….

Would it be fair for me to say,
There are only two spirits a prey,
The lustful move toward; with trust and its plot,
and...
The painful proof to dart; with disgust and its lot.

When we love I must fear,
When we must, being when becomes clear.

It is here for me to abbreviate,
When the lie, pressed in what we rejuvenate,
Is not my plow I trust, its a clue before me,
The racket in what is annihilating to be free.

When you care and see me pray,
There is just one merit I can portray,
The careful move towards; a shift of life and its hover,
And suddenly, when the strife-full dove has the heart,
We still meander and wonder,
Who has to part..., or come over.