Fishers of the Storm

Then let us be fishers of the storm,
for these days may bring a tempest.
We can be born or ere reborn
as we give our lives in love.

And we can be fishermen of souls,
and decipher souls like palimpsests,
or risk our ships amidst the shoals,
to succor one from the drowning droves.

Then let us hook our very selves
and dangle us in wrathful waters,
as we strive for sky-high God-graced shelves,
untouched by waves and worldly scorn,

and see if we cannot anon capture
our sons or brothers or our fathers
with some truer inborn rapture,
we fishers of the storm.

Then let us risk our very lives
as elementals in the storm,
to net out daughters, mothers, wives
from its vengeful rageful dangers.

Yea, let us be fishermen indeed,
and barter, for nobility, the spiteful worm
that in us seeks to glut and feed
on the shipwreck of utter strangers.

Then let us be fishermen of the storm,
for these days do swear a tempest.
We can reform ere we form,
as we give our lives in love.

The fiercer then shall grow this squall,
the higher then must rise our love,
to pledge again our honored law:
that below be christened as above.