Perils Of The Open Sea

Every Odysseus-of-us, sailing home to our own Ithaca must surely succumb, it seems, to the whirlpools and traps of the journey across life's perilous oean in consciousness' small boat. An eye-blink of relative peace freed from one entrapment not yet ensnared by the next, is the best most humans can hope for, or maybe imprisonment by a fairly benign captor within or outside us, instead of a vicious sadist. I've seen a few mighty heroes meet the open sea's perils by raising a powerful hand and uttering Sacred Names that turned the dragons away like frightened, yelping pups — But that has not been my fate.