Thou wast abandoned by the Sea, Ship,
hast been vexed from thy mechanical birth.
Folk call thee
“fault of engineering, exception of art”.
(All the pardon in the world
would ne’er atone for injuries borne
in thy innocent frame misconstructed.)
Cursed by thy designer…
Disdained by thy capt’n…
Forsaken by thy crew…
Dost thou still suffer? How much
hast thou cried? I’ve seen in thy carcass,
from ancient tears, stains of rust
that run down thy lil’ hundred eyes.
Thou lost becamest.
Thou hidst amongst coral and coveredst thyself in seaweed;
hopedst to have thy body fouled by salts and water,
and mussels and shipworms, and a veil of coral and weed.
Didst thou expect to hide from
curious morbid greedy eyes?
Thou waitedst for thy carcass to corrupt,
but steel doth not conceed with ease;
Time hath only saddened thee.
(The Moon, through her Tides, doeth her bidding onto us.)
The Sea, mercurial, seeth you with disdain.
Through centuries, its Waters have withdrawn.
“Thou wast abandoned by the sea”.
Thy rotten carcass had been revealed,
only to be further hassled by the Rain.
Folk call thee “The Unsunken Ship” too.
Ship. My eyes are curious, but my spirit isn’t any morbid and greedy.
And I see in thee an unfinished concoction
of faultless engineering and exceptional art.
Now that Sea hath ceded thee to the Sun and the Summer Winds;
the gentler sprites of the season asked me if I durst repair thee.
I dare; I shall; thou wilt be repaired.
Thou wilt be restored into the oneiric grandeur only conceived that once long ago when t’wast born.
Thou wilt be my ship and I will be thy crew, like e’er attuned comrades.
My name and your name dare be written in a book of history in words of sage.
Folk won’t call thee “Thou, Ship, the Unsunken” anymore,
but they’ll say “Ye, Ship, the Alive”.
Upon my renewal of thee, thou canst be “Seawandering, The Ship”.
Upon my devisal of thee, thou wilt be “Skyfaring, The Airship, “.
Upon my dream of thee, thou shalt be “Heav’nroaming, The Spaceship”.
The Sea will regret having abandoned thee.