The oil at the surface

The merely adequate raft  I am sailing on

Through life’s monsoons

Is but a random cork and wick on a grave’s votive candle

Its feeble light keeping company to the departed 

Along with the survivors’ remembrance 

As simple a fate gifted me a gliding ease to endure

This journey

Me, the anointed one, spared from drowning in the waters beneath 

My oil rising to the top