I lay dreaming as the yardarms howl with ghosts
  upon the wind,
screaming down: “Your crew is lost, it’s mutiny once more”

One voice to dare my choices strong
and shed that bitter sleep,
my past the drowning child of its dark and rocky shoals

As tears release and fall like rain the tiller
begs forgiveness,
old memories drift away in fear and sink within themselves

The time has come, as fate calls out to man the heavy sails
and chart a course into the swells
—one final storm to brave

(Dreamsleep: March, 2021)