A Dream of Whales

Imagine a world order
that emulated whales:
instead of slaughter,
epic quests, recalled
in song-cycles and tales
carried in race memory -
sagas of pelagic trails
that link the ice-shelf
with the tropics'
deliquescent jade.

Imagine a world order
where whales mimicked
human alpha males,
pursuing vessels till the decks
ran bright with blood
from seamen's veins;
where Captain Ahab turned
into a submarine leviathan
who took revenge
for every butchered kinsman
since the hunt began.

But whales do not exist
to kill; survive on krill;
are peacable. They nurture
their own kind, and in adversity
do not desert; would rather die
than jettison a comrade
who has run aground.
They dream of when the seas
were free of harpoons,
whaling ships and crews...

If whales could sway
the minds of men,   
Earth's governance 
might be more sane;
the oceans would sound
like cathedrals, vibrant
with cetacean hymns,
and in the seasons when they pass,
I'd paddle out to greet my friends.