Lost at Sea: A Poem

The sun of gold is spent and I cannot see 
Dark, cold, and violent the waters rise about me 
Under foot I've no hold, I am sent out to sea 
I grow old and shall neither repent nor see victory

 Against such a tempest of soul I can never prevail
 I am thrown all about by desire in a gyring gale 
I search for new life and calm waters but to no avail 
In such a storm of fury no man could set sail 

This storm is only calmed by the hands pierced by nails 

 I cannot steer, I never could 
I cannot go by sail of cloth and ship of wood
 It is the principal of progress which I misunderstood
 To give up the wheel, its all one could