On the Defeatist Nature of Adventure | Teen Ink

On the Defeatist Nature of Adventure

February 25, 2017
By Macha GOLD, Knoxville, Tennessee
Macha GOLD, Knoxville, Tennessee
16 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"You can't wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club." - Jack London


Do you feel it – whiffling through the darkness?
A cold breeze flitting over the sea
Fingers crooked, beckoning with an alluring farness
Calling out “Come, follow Me.”
Up she rose, rusty sword in hand
Ready to leave her country-land
To follow the breeze over the sea
Calling, pleading “Come, follow me”

Many days that voice she sought
Upon the sea in a boat of mallard green
Against the waves she determinedly fought –
against greater tempests than e’re been seen.
But the bows of the ship bent to her command
And she reached a distant shore of sand
To follow the breeze over the sea
Louder now crying “Come, follow me”

Through the darkness, through the trees,
Like towering giants stood the jungle tall
The Malicious beasts that prowled hidden leaves
Feared to attack should her trusty sword fall
Searched she did til’ the secret place she reached
A murky wooded gully where no sunlight could breach
Through jungle, darkness, land, and sea
To the gloomy genesis of the breeze calling “Come, follow me”


Rusted sword in fisted hand
Into the unyielding murk she cried –
Cried out ‘til she barely could stand
“Where are you, O voice I have not denied,
You who called me and beckoned me hither
To tomb where all light has withered,
now that I have traveled through jungle, darkness and sea
to the forsaken, forgotten trap from which you called ‘Come, follow me’”

She ceased her calling for answer there came none
And fell upon the rotting jungle ground
Across the unforgiving she had chased the sun
When there was only ever darkness to be found
The forest night crept in hungrily
Vines like veins pulsing in the shadows spastically
And yet the voice that had beckoned from across the sea
Made no utterance of “Come, follow me”

As the morning awoke, so did she,
And crossed once more through the jungle tall
Boarding again her ship of mallard green
And fought against the waves like a wall
Back onto her homeland she stepped
In the attic the rusted sword she left
And took no heed of the whiffling sea breeze
Still begging, pleading, “Come, follow me”


The author's comments:

The adventures of life do not always pan out - nor should they.


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