Hiatus

by Carle Phillip Graffunder

A single white-capped wave that crests an ocean’s swell
Itself is not the sea.
In fjords and firths the tides rise higher
Until they almost touch the wings of sea-birds flying there,
But tides are not the sea.
Above them all with fine-tuned sight
Clear-eyed wing-ed gladiators of the open sky
Can see antipodes and back.
Yet the world, though hugely grand, does not reveal the soul.

The zeal of confidence that makes me know what I do not know
May urge me ever on to wider scenes of deed and thought;
But I know glint of light on surface sea does not reveal the deep
Where genies of power guard the graveyard of the sun.