The Captains Log

I gaze in hope for the horizon beyond the bow of my ship.
This night has been forever.
I long for the kiss of warmth that morning brings
from this godforsaken weather.
Yet even when I greet the sun, weak beyond the ever present clouds,
it cannot free my tether.
Just when I think I can ride the storm, another piece of cargo slips from my deck.
Waves like I've never seen.
I left port as a fully laden ship far too many years ago.
Young, fit, ready and keen.
A lot lighter, I look behind and follow the unending trail of debris.
The oceans where I've been.
From time to time I am joined in my lonely journey by an albatross.
I wear it around my neck.
On my voyage I have often seen the tell tale flotsam that can be only one thing.
Another person's wreck.
As the seas do their best to beat me, I strap myself to the helm.
Feet gripping to the deck.
Without a destination, my compass spins wildly pointing me in all directions.
I can only try to cope.
Even on the calm and sunny days, despair hits me and I ponder
another use for this rope.
And so goes another sporadic entry in the log, of life on the high seas.
On the good ship known as "Hope."