The Weary Rower By Bluewind
Rowing among capturing confusions –
My friend, help me,
I am wearied by depression.
Lonesomely resist swallowing quicksand –
My friend, just why,
Am I doing this pointless demand?
All seems unreal, all seems dreamy,
the lurid visions of half-concrete realm.
Among which desires revealed,
Am I a player or a watcher?
A surreal art, a dream made concreted
With much relief and anxiety.
With baffling images, and special creation
Why are we having disturbing visions?
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