All of life fighting against the undertow
We brave seafarers, our sore kindling
Reaching for each other as fates collide
It is hard to reckon comfort, when she flees
with such regular bewitchment
Still, we endeavour, the swish of oars searching shore
O for safe harbor, to know less fear, nor the terrible weight of error
Echoing through our souls, as sudden storm will rattle even thickest glass.
And reading this, another poet’s words ring in my inner ear from the ending of Tennyson’s Ulysses:
“Come, my friends,
‘T is not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.”
A fine analogy
Love the “terrible weight of error / Echoing through our souls” Great work!
((hugs))