The 400th Mutiny.
There was whales and shrieks upon all accord
Of the effort and
Artist’s sake to bring forth
Hope into a dying breed..
The Pure-Pursuit of the
Passion of Interest,
besieged at vague clauses.
Moments that one had to double-take.
Whispers of glances.
The awaiting number on the brochure
You’ve noticed for years.
Like gales across the vista
Of a modern-way of
Flaring the signal
To
Light the Beacon.
Messages everyday.
The Hawks 200 Years Ago led
The communication corkboard.
Set to wind and trust;
“Captors” were seen otherwise.
And somehow the global ecology
Of a once-forgotten-tale
Of the first wonder
Of what it was to print your first book, by hand.
It’s never one you wrote.
But it’s always the one to make you happy.
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