i respect the captains of old with my last trust;
they channelled the course of this ship with their last might;
on board we had suffered ills yet the anchors last forth;
in recap the past presents to us lullabies of hope
but, the myriads of internally frail captains on the ship,
in zillion ways echo to us the deficiencies that lie ahead.
i see the moon, sun and constellations dancing ahead,
looking forward to when the true independence shall be.
the angels are my witness… the ship is not free until it‘s free.
yes, until it‘s free of the wolves and green snakes
that prowl and sneak about in saint‘s garment
but with the clear genotype of devil in situ.
when these we have done by reforming a new attitude
then, the voyage, ahead of the ship & sailors – independent shall be at last!