it is a fickle thing,
that which ties us to
large millstones then
casts us into the Sea.
we plunge, headlong
into black waters where
scamps and reprobates
descended long before.
hoping for a midnight lark
with friends near and far
on the rippled sands
of the inhumed sea bed.
when i finally hit the bottom,
who will come to my
side and cut loose this
so that i too can frolic on the Ocean floor,
with all the Sinners in their Ribald Soirée.
“If anyone causes one of these little ones
—those who believe in me—to stumble,
it would be better for them to have a
large millstone hung around their neck
and to be drowned in the depths of the sea”
~ The Gospel According To Matthew, Chapter 18, Verse 6.