What could change in a world so fixed?
a ship laid anchor ages ago but still
its captain wearing his full uniform;
the wind at harbor can move naught—
want to look ahead in the crow’s nest,
it all looks fine as I cry everyday land—
the oars so shiny, cleaned and waxed,
the maker’s name still shows so well;
who knows what purpose are they for?
The hands and ropes are much too mixed,
what could change in a world so fixed?

A day should come when I feel the breeze,
pure and clean of city smoke and tar—
the little puffs of a factory or a car
not so much working but to vent some—
like people so idle and blue,
nothing more comes in but out
among polluted minds I find no peace;
my legs long to stretch my arm to reach
the truth I want to see without no bleach;
all around seems going so fast, yet so still
walking around statues of the olden times,
I see dreams broken, let go, forgotten;
I see wills shattered like a wearied shield,
a sword so sharp, yet too heavy for any to wield—
too many backs broken and done
under thoughts piling up for ages saying they were done—
no more was left to give but plenty to take.
Wading in the mud pool must be risked;
as I moved I waved the pool around—
not so still now but eyes raging at me,
fangs ready to fix me in back in place like hounds;
I am the wave that destroyed the sand castle.
to change much must be abandoned and risked—
what could change in a world so fixed?
I could; you can.

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