Then this myth of an ancient ship
hauled alone by a prescient fish
sprawled on waves of a drowned wish
They say, I’d made an ordained trip
I took seeds from Darwin’s stingy grip,
Sealed words from tomes of his niche
Packed wee wounds on my soul amiss
They say, I sang of a future in worship
But what is tomorrow if not an infant of the now
Cradled, cajoled, in rivers of collective past
Into delicious torrents of expectant trance
They say today has been in a quantum vow
entangled in every ship’s mission to last
Until the fish learn to fly or maybe to dance
(Note: Many ancient cultures believed in cycles of time and regeneration, not a start from the scratch. This is a feeble tribute to that idea based on the imagery of a Hindu Purana which talks of Vishnu in the form of a fish who took a boat with representatives of all living creatures and all living knowledge ashore during the “great flood”. As posted to a Facebook poetry group Singpowrimo)
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