Harboured Thoughts

I despise the harboured writing thought,
tightly bound to horn cleats, neatly anchored
in a sturdy port. Welcome the storm!
Whether it be thimble or quart,
to bring down an axe through the knot
and air our ships of fears and doubt
from comfort caves to ferocious seas,
and become the cliffs of limestone and granite
who break the waves, who break the habit.