Pretty Poetry September 1, 1985 at 2:29 am
My ship sails upon the ocean
Though I’m not a seafaring man.
My love of the sea is a part of me
Though I’m not an amorous man.
Science is my mystery
The wonders plague my mind.
A search to find that moment in time
And the reason for it all
Yet, if I knew, it might be construed
With feelings of great fear
To the masses of lads and lasses
Spinning with me on this sphere.
Have I learned things that I shouldn’t have?
Have I really messed things up?
Is there a code of ethics to follow?
Can a poet know too much?
I must be one of the chosen few
As I pat myself on the back
It’s better than believing I’m insane and alone
In an endless void of black.
Is this man a prophet?
Is this man a freak?
My words are lost to those who seek
Just pretty poetry.