Paper Boats

Not everyone who ventures beyond
The Newtonian shores
Returns with data pertinent to our salvation.
Why then, this banishment?
Why this white rock?
From my tower I look out --
Whiteness in every direction.
I hope this is not the whiteness of God.
The ocean is white.
Where did they find such an ocean?
Even the fish have abandoned it.
Although my data is encoded in the
Language of frogs and birds,
There is no obstacle.
In the moonlight we are all fluent
In forgotten tongues.
I have launched a fleet of paper boats.
White on white --
It is difficult to see.
All but the upper third
Is obscured by the horizon,
But the printed letters,
Black and clear
Like the foot prints of tiny crows,
Inescapable as arrows,
Clutter every page.
My message bobs toward the
Hellespont.
Do not despair sweet Chrysippus
Though they hold you captive against your will,
The fleet approaches.
Today I begin work on an origami horse.