030 - January 30 2024 - Little Elegy to our Ship

Thus on we go, our small ship drifting slowly
I cannot know what dangers lie before us
yet she’s secure, and we rest in her surely
as we approach the heat of Dido’s furnace

out at the fold, where diamonds come up coldly,
to the sea sphere, where the ground has no respite
to Delia, the orb of art and story
To Cynthia, where the Founder lost his life

This ship of ours is running out here darkly
toward a plot so curious and bizarre
that they would trust it more if we spoke falsely
these strange reasons that we’re in amongst the stars