Journeyman Tillerman

Do not drift from the port

Do not slip into that last flow

I am not ready yet to throw to you

I have cards to sort and boxes to pack

Promises to keep, amnesty to seek

 

Not ready journeyman Tillerman

Not ready to hand over to you

Not ready to drift under the tall bridge

Not ready to out pace the mid stream

 

So tell me journeyman Tillerman

When our being has dissolved and gone

When we pass from the lake to the sea

What will we find and what will we see

Will that surreal light release a final reveal

Will we know at last what is and what is not ?

 

With a soft hand he let go of the tiller

He let the currents determine our course

In the quiet becalm of waves lapping

In the space between one hand clapping

His answer unclasped expectation

 

 “Where we go there is nothing

There is nowhere there to go”

Copyright Graeme Murphy 2000-2021

 

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Paynesville  2013