Cracks in the Compass?

Unless a raindrop contains the universe
The Way a map contains an atlas,
Differing in its essence without
We are lost.
Unless we all come to bear
Witness and hope and
Its essence within
We are doomed to decline
Down the tar-pits of time
and hesitation.
Where is the captain!?
Where is our firm voice through the spray
Barking orders to men
Who know but still hear
Their duty and place
In tongues already understood?
Even the oil painted boat with blue sails
That owned five years of this café wall
Was somehow sold to someone,
Leaving me in a familiar seat
Under an unfamiliar SOLD,
And as my coffee cools
The café radiates
Something that speaks
Of life as all impermanence,
New belonging.