when we forget the world is big
 we lose a sense of who we are;
 perspective's meant to keep us moored
 so we won't drift away as far
 as i have done, these last few years --
 and, maybe, you have done as well --

we're birds, or waves, or clouds at best,
 and it takes sky to feel how far we fell.

a cry across the harbor now,
 the glare from still erupting sun,
 the wisps of something far and fast,
 another busy day begun --

do you resist your place in this?
 are you, like me, recalcitrant?
 must we walk on to feel our legs,
 and crane to see how far's been our


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Beleaguered Servant

Owen Servant is an online poet working in a style that's been described as "compulsive". In real life, he is an actuary, because being a poet wasn't unpopular enough.

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