Captains

The water becomes the sun
when the earth seems far away.
the trees have travelled their roots
while the winds carry my words.
if he lives beyond the clouds,
who proffers all the wonder?
does he follow a compass
that answers all these questions?
how do his words teach the ground
how to order all these seeds?

The one who answers, speaks not…

I am the last of boatmen
I scribble my last land days
and lock in a dead man’s chess,
my wings are bottles of rum
while I count the fine new stars.
This voyage has lost its road
and swallowed the Kraken’s heart
while riding I’m a Walker
who lost both brothers at sea.

I am William Henley’s cult
the belt around Saul William.
I make Steve Roger’s dark shield
while hell mates Thanos’ sword.
I am fever birthing Stark
and the thick gorge hit by Thor.
One day, I will be a boat,
but for today I’m captain
who masters his road back home.

Ruddapoet