Skip to main content

Land of the Rising Sun

Past the sunrise there lies a land
Of which no man has ever heard,
But lie it does - as they all feel -
Deep in their hearts, yet far beyond.

For one there may be meadows of grass,
For the other, towers standing tall,
And for yet another, silence profound,
In this land past the roaring sea.

Every other sailor guides their ship
To this land to all unknown;
In their wake they bring their men,
Who follow, walking in their wink.

Weary eyes do search in vain
Along with tired hands that steer
For as long as in the heart hope burns,
Guiding from shore to far afar.

Do they reach? One never knows,
For no distant tales make it back;
Oft' a broken plank does swim - 
The sole survivour of a mysterious mishap.

I too now set sail my ship,
'Midst warnings hearkening the air;
Pursuing me are sleeping men -
My brethren - maybe foe, maybe friend.

For many years we have sailed
Towards the ever-evading sun,
During which the many sights I have see
Are enough to drown in despair the heavy heart.

First of all, it was the first mate
Who had rigged the mission from the start;
Sans wits to build his own ship,
He sought to steal another man's slog.

Then there was the crew - many of them - 
With evil eyes hidden behind smiles,
And though like honey their words were sweet,
They roamed aboard with lethal knives.

On the way, by pirates we were attacked
- But at least they weren't my own men -
They had lost their ships, and their only wish
Was that others should lose theirs too.

Then one day, there came a storm
That broke my ship at hull and mast,
And though we stared up with hope,
No albatross did fly across.

Little by little, we, who were left
Holding on to wrecked wood,
Drifted further and further away,
Till were claimed by sea and the jaws of sharks.

At the end, it was only me
Deliriously looking up to see the reaper grim,
But it wasn't him! for I had reached -
I had reached the land of the rising sun.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Clothes on the Bedroom Floor

  Clothes litter the bedroom floor, Memories of a lover's heart ripped and thrown, Fading like the will to knock on the door And pick up the pieces that have now been outgrown. The blue sweater truly suited you - White stripes from a country not my own... It saw the sun rise over a ballsy victory or two Before sinking to the floor, heavier than stone. On the same stained floor lie clothes of the night, Once shared with love amongst you and I Till you lost your drive and all strength to fight While I abandoned the energy to cry. The cargo pants were his to rock, Dotted with pockets to carry his smile... Now it lies lopsided, contorted like a keyless lock, Only to be stepped on with scorn every once in a while. And there - a friend's jade jerkin, a union's sign, Both still thriving and alive, Though now I can call neither of them mine - Too tired to buzz with the busy bees of the hive. That black jacket was a gift from the dead To provide an illusion of warmth in a land of sn...
2 comments
Read more

Memories of 2020

Remember that ride to school When a spider fell on you? You screamed so loud I slipped off the seat. But you don't 'Cause that's a memory we never made. Remember that day we got late Hence I was running up the stairs? Suddenly I tripped, And brought you down with me. But you don't 'Cause that's a memory we never made. Remember when you forgot your breakfast So we had to share mine? We sat 'neath the trees outside, And he saw you for the first time. But you don't 'Cause that's a memory we never made. Remember that time you didn't do your homework And he let you copy his? He called it your first date. You were so happy. But you don't 'Cause that's a memory you never made. Remember when I discovered That that quiet girl had the same interests as me? We'd spend our breaks in the library Discussing everything. But you don't 'Cause that's a memory I never made. Remember the tears we shed During our farewell party? We exc...
2 comments
Read more

The Lass

Past the footprints on the muddy track If you walk through the grazing grass, Find you will a knife stained and black With old blood from a young lass. Follow the drops and you shall see Flattened grass where the dull spots end, A young lass with tears running free To form a river just 'round the bend. Born from a puddle of red despair, Flowing through a barren way To the sea and from there the air, Resting in the gathering clouds of the ending day. All the lass had ever needed was a shoulder; Now her own tears rain down to wash away sorrow, For no kind voice ever told her Of the light that shone in the morrow. Her tears stay to water the tired, Her blood forever staining the silent ground; The Earth shall rise to claim the wired, Only then will start the sound Of what made the lass the knife to yield? However did she drown in despair? Why did she keep her secrets sealed As she sought to destroy all beyond repair? Perhaps she'll hear from the starry sky The apologies and condol...
2 comments
Read more