William Bickster

Old Moorings

without light and path
without compass or measure
with no eye to the future
nor link to the past
we sailed

out to sea and free
of old moorings
we left destiny
to chance, and so
we sailed

rudderless souls on a
wreckless journey
laid to fate, we've become
a ship of fools
as we sail

sailing subject to
whatever course
outside forces determine
we are less at liberty
than ever

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, March 31, 2010

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