Adrift

Your Northstar, for you have one, sailor,
no matter that the skies are grey,
and abject failure follows failure,
the winds refusing to obey.

It perseveres and glows, defiant,
a stark reminder of your choice
to chase some other shiny giant,
a piper's flute, a siren's voice.

Adrift now, in uncharted waters,
where fear and loading fill the air,
emerging from your Captain's Quarters,
into oblivion and despair,

you claim you're lost, when all that's needed
is the desire to look up.
Too bad that it will go unheeded.
Such is the nature of this trap.