the odyssey.
words fail when it comes time
to say goodbye; a litany of concerns
remain hidden by the obscurity
of worry, and once again, i find myself
tragically speechless, hoping i've packed
enough for this journey. beyond
the threshold lies adventure and
uncertainty. the heroes of old found
themselves typically far from home,
braving scyllas and charybdises (charybdi?),
hurricanes and shipwrecks, fallen friends
and fiercest foes.
who am i who travels
forth into a world without
the promise of mythic hope and
epic redemption? what home
have i to purge of seedy suitors
who sup sumptuous savories?
who shall be my athena, and what
if i am not strong enough to string
the bow that has been given me?
all such pondering gives me pause,
begs me submit to the sirenesque
television who promises that adventure
shall be brought to me at 8/9 central.
but this is not the call; nor
is it the heart of the hero.
from forth i must go with
steady hands and quickened wit,
trusting that the path before
me is truly my own,
and that no one else shall
walk it better than i. whatever
calypso may offer, i shall refuse,
keeping my eyes on that
celestial ithaca where my Beloved's
song echoes through halls, and
gives this poor pilgrim the
rest he has so long needed.
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