The Road to Utnapishtim

I stand on the bright white shores indignantly;
Brave Shamash climbs the skies and soars above me.
Remnants shimmer and shower down in his wake
And I am warmed by them despite my mistakes.
On this beach I look out deep and swallow breath;
Stretching on forever: the Watters of Death.
The beach goddess tells me humans cannot cross;
But He Who Saw Life I must seek -- to emboss
My own life which, absent ornamentation,
Stinks of foul death with no remuneration.
And Death sneers and laughs that I’m ephemeral:
He says I’m best fulfilled as nothing at all.
Where’s the ferryman, where’s my Urshanabi,
To take me from here to where I want to be?
I wander through the woods and search forever,
But this boatman is elusive and cleaver.
My eyes and hands and ears and nose and taste buds --
Inadequate! Come, O modus vivendi!
Now I see the ferry driver in my blood;
As a völk I transcend: immortality!

Shayne