The Good Ship Forbearance

In seas of turmoil the good ship forbearance

Strained her bow against the rising depths

As lower forces assumed a threatening coherence

Between the angry wave’s of tilting oceans 

And the menacing skies in lilting motions.

The masthead standards violently swaying lose

Releasing enmities hidden below the deck’s breadths

As the ship’s foundations lurched about

In chaotic spasms - severing the fastenings and screws;

Bringing a flinch to the captain’s eye and a compromising doubt.

Whirling winds spinning around the vessel’s foursquare bearing

 With the after-house facing tumultuously across each compass point bereft

Of calm viewpoint, purpose or direction.

The morning blue sky promise now accursed perdition;

the storm’s blackness consuming the day’s good faring.

The storm’s surging forces implode into a convex

Proximal center and thus, swallowed into the deep sea floors

Where calm and peace reside without perplex

Of expectations nor possessive notions to any shores.

The quietude rises to consume the ship’s abnormal; allowing forbearance to forget.