Thursday, November 3, 2011

Moby-Dick :: Chapter 23 :: The Lee Shore

Mister Ishmael ~

Are we not all slaves, entrapped here upon these shores, dropped at birth with no terms of recourse for years into our lives. Homeless, even though we think we home. Criminals by right of birthright. Born in debt before our first breath. Surely this was not the best way to safety.

But what seems like safety, the land, the strong rocks, the firm ground, is not that, but the quicksand upon which we try to stand.

Doest the land under the feet burn thee? Doest the cagey entrapment of dreams and promises, hold thee off the course, of straight south? Legal servitude--binding net about us--encob* us now. And the cry of patriotism sound like a call to lay down, as roadbase, for the legions of soldiers to walk over, even the profit spoke of this. The navy, most powerful pirates, shiny in apparent goodness, hoist over the tainted seawater and spent rods, imperilling our world?

Ayin, the land, for far doth be seen while on high mountain's peak, sans clouds or mist. Speak not, as thy voice doth offend the gods that are here.

Bulkington, Bulkington. Bull of a man. Break free. Steer clear. Head out to sea. Make haste. Flee all succour. Outrun the Dooms Day book, open for to add your name. Or speak now and fain stay.

Trust Your Journey (tm)
~ ijil Rainbow Hawk Giver

* original quote or word coined by ijil RHG

* encob - to become wrapped in cobwebs, physically, mentally, metaphorically, or otherwise. To become ensnared, wrapped up, encircled on all sides, encased. To become totally bound, as if in a net. Having a sticky or creepy substance or feeling about it. The more one moves, the deeper the level of entanglement.

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