"ever-singing”
Though: "ever-singing”
Though silence steals the edges of song,
the heart still knows where it belongs. What ears cannot catch, the soul is bringing,
a harmony deeper than mortal singing.
The stars themselves are notes unending,
their light a hymn, their fire a bending—
toward Christ, the Logos, all creation leaning.
What a wild, salt-soaked:
What a wild, salt-soaked fever-dream you’ve conjured!
It feels like the sea itself spat out a drunken troupe of pirates,
all swagger and spit, dragging you into their grotesque carnival
of moldy crumbs, fat rats, and whiskey showers.
Captain Clowry storms through the tale like a half-mad bard—
equal parts menace, satire, and slapstick—while you,
the unwilling witness, are folded into his delirious
theatre of hunger, hubris, and hilarity.
There’s a strange beauty in the grotesque here:
rats fat as kings, skeletons bending like dancers,
and a pirate who can’t decide if he’s a menace, a model, or a myth.
The whole thing teeters between nightmare and satire,
Dostoyevsky and slapstick, as if the ocean itself were laughing
at the absurdity of human hunger and hubris.
And yet, through all the grime and gurgled rum,
there’s a spark of playfulness—like the refrain of his song:
Oh, the things, the things / Yes, these be the things!
It’s chaotic, it’s grimy, it’s hilarious—and it feels like the kind of story
that would leave you both seasick and grinning.
Possibly the most thought: Possibly the most thought provoking poem I ever seen online, so far as I can remember, or in my current state of mind; regardless, wishing I could provide a better, ample analyses. I am no science professor.
>> View All Comment Activity >>