when the winds of whim & woe
threaten to whip and lay waste
our weathered, winnowed vessel;
as emotional electrical storms erupt
emitting intermittent lightning strikes,
causing men and women alike to scurry home
to society’s cerebral shelters;
i am an anchor that tethers;
in a sea of scienter and temporal tempests
threatening to toss us to and fro at high tide,
against cragged, unforgiveable coral;
which, would we make its’ acquaintance,
would spell the end
of all we love, hope and hold true,
in other words - we’d die.
i plumb the depths.
rusty, crusted and stolid,
i am an anchor;
long may i anc.