Ship in a Bottle

He’s a ship in a bottle.
Built for adventure but confined in one place.
His heart, soul, and mind hold the world already,
But his hands long for it as well.
His bottle rests on a bookshelf with a perfect view of the window.
The view is not enough for him.
That ship yearns for travel and the transformation of a world he’s only seen from the shelf.
He wants to alter that world.
To mold it like clay into some recognizable shape.
If anyone can, it’s him.
But he can’t reach it from this side of the glass.
He’s tried praying but he’s tired of asking politely.
He’s tried standing still but that gets him nowhere.
He wonders if it’s possible to sink without even touching the sea.
If his torn and battered sails will ever feel the wind.
But he’s restless, resolute, and he refuses to wave the white flag.
He almost capsizes
Turning his brain upside down to form thoughts and theories.
An escape or two or three or ten.
He won’t sleep until he’s sailed to every corner of the earth.
A storm is brewing inside of that bottle
And when lightning strikes
And the glass shatters
There will be no looking back.