I've seen the cyclops' <br />orgy of electric madness <br />as he gobbled men <br />like popcorn — <br /> <br />only the protection <br />of the Wise Man <br />gave me passage <br />off that island, <br /> <br />and again the blue skies <br />and white curl of waves <br />scudding upon <br />my small boat's prow, <br />the tiller in my steady hand, <br />my weary eye upon the sea. <br /> <br />Yet still Poseidon <br />would not let me be, <br /> <br />but sent me between Scylla <br />and Charybdis' whirling eye, <br />flung madly from <br />my course once more <br />and cast up naked on <br />another unknown beach. <br /> <br />Lethe bound me then <br />with chains of sleep. <br />This time an angel <br />in the guise of man <br />found my obscure bed somehow <br />and led me on a starry night <br />again to the wide sea. <br /> <br />Ah, how I weary <br />of journeys and of shipwrecks, <br />and seeming plaything to the gods <br />when in truth <br />it's my own hubris <br />that renders me so weak. <br /> <br />This island anchoring <br />my feet today <br />I do not know <br />the name of. <br />For untold years <br />I've wandered <br />its circumference, <br /> <br />gazing out to sea, <br />scanning the sky <br />for rescuers, <br />meanwhile weaving <br />threads of possibility <br />upon the loom of thought, <br />though plans refuse to form. <br /> <br />And still I dream of Ithaca...<br /><br />Max Reif<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/04new-a-song-of-odysseus/
