the compass needle swings, slows and stops

resting a brief moment then shivvers and moves off again

guided by a random drunken hand

the unseen helmsman follows

tracking a wandering course

that began somewhere

and will end nowhere now comprehensible

to those on board

ghosts, real and imagined

whose courses interweave

for good and ill

~

i am trying to take the helm

and point that needle where i want it to go

this is not so hard

it is knowing the way

that keeps me up at night

7/18 LV
Copyright Michael Douglas Scott