Circumnavigation

But think of them and there they are.
The mind is fractured like a star,
Spread out across a crowded sea
Of harbors and ports and faces
Split into people and places,
Pin-points, little islands, all
Incidental ports-of-call.

And think of it, how wise we were to call:
Whether for love or hate of men
How well we did to need them then.
These were the homes where we refueled
The barnacle-encrusted, jeweled
Solipsistic self: or cruel or kind
We did not look as we left behind
The land we were lucky to find.