The Gull

The gull looks into the crimson dusk,

With outstretched wings he motions
To permit the distant Sun to drown,
Into the bosom of the ocean.


Content with pride, accomplishment in stride;
Making tridents on the servile sand,
He picks a twig, firm in his beak
And waves to the skies like a wand.

Like a monarch he strolls, on the sands of time
With élan he glides yonder
As swift as the wind, as strong as the sea
With wings outstretched asunder.

This banal land, is most stale
Like Ulysses he wishes to sail,
To see what lies beyond the Sun
To see from where comes gale

Off he sets, for eternity
With ambition on fluttery plumes
Notwithstanding life's limitations,
Notwithstanding doom.

Cleaving through the nebulous mist
Searing through the skeptic waves
In search of the truth, that has made mockery
Of the mighty and the brave.

Through endless days, and abysmal nights
He races with his own reflection
Using stratagems and guile to get the better
Yet none delivering fruition.

In search of the Promised Land he sails
Where bliss is commonplace;
Where ambition retires, where happiness plays
Where time must pause to exhale.

What mortal has won the race
When the elements participate ?
Yet on weakening wings and a mighty heart
The gull marches straight.

The sea seems nearer, and the rival closer
As if to discuss a truce;
Like Caesar betrayed by one of his own
He splashes on the surface devoid of ruth.

Rising up yet again!
Like a phoenix refusing the end;
He looks ahead to see the land
Which eons before he left.

That banal land that was most stale
From where he had set sail
Where like a monarch he had once strolled
Where all ambitions must fail.

To the bosom of that land, the gull sails
Wounded ,defeated and pale
Not in search of the sun or the gale
But for solace that's stale.

Those lieutenant wings can pull no long
Those plumes can toil no more
The mighty gull plummets one last time
Setting his eyes on the shore.

For an eternity; there's silence around;
Till his eyes open
To see the twig that was once a wand
To see the tridents on the sand.

With broken wings, outstretched;
On quivering toes he stands;
Those eyes that once had fire in them
Are calm, they understand;

Prostrate on the sand, he falls
Embracing his motherland.