against the turbulent wind
and waves that know no end,
i suppose 'tis good to sail.
guided by ephemeral clouds
all the sea-hosts ask how,
"did you expect not to fail"?
at night will i set to dreaming
and restore myself, for good evening
is merely a farewell to the sun.
with pen in my hand
and bruised heel shall i stand,
unaware of from where
the breeze comes.
Oh! my body it breaks,
against words and mistakes,
and i cry out to curse
the day i drew breath.
and yet i draw on...

but from the water
yes i saw you from the water!
the white wake that ripples
from your chest.
swallowed by a sea of glass
are your prowess and your wrath,
as you are mocked
and cast to the ground.
yet onward does it go
now that you have been laid low,
no woodsman comes
to cut us down.