All My Titanics

How often I was holed - my
Ships adrift and sinking, always
Sinking in water too
Deep and murky to see 

To the bottom of and always 
There was salvage: digging
Acts in shifting sand, an endless 
Cranking of ropes and chains I was
Dredged and hauled to the surface -
Operated on my rotten woods then
Repatched, restrutted, 
Refloated until the next
Rock came.  But now with
The ghosts of all my
Past lying soundly
Holed at the bottom of the sea,
Drifting dreamily in 
Waters deep and blue, I have
Dismissed the salvage crew need
No ropes and chains to
Resurrect me now I can
Do it by willpower alone -
A novel enterprise to
Surface all my vessels, let the
Water rush
Back where it belongs, 
Leave them high 
And dry 
And bobbing freely - all
My titanics up
And riding fearlessly
The icebergs of my life.
I will fashion me a new ship
From all their wood
And never need 
Worry over rocks again for
In these: my final 
Voyages on easy seas
Nothing can sink me now:

Light floats and fires of its
Own accord - cannot be
Struck or holed by any thing
Alive in this world.
The Golden Fish
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