How can I chart the dark night’s lunar sea? Those waves define the tides inside my mind, With ebbs and flows that toss and turn with glee And linger longer than the chains that bind. Where atlas, compass, sextant give no aid Through evil vaults where stars are scared to shine, Our tears and screams are birthed to quickly fade With hope, drowning lonesome in the brine. I’ve raced before the tempest wind so long, My hull is breached beyond my skill to caulk. No map for me, I chase a siren song To straits so dire that all but monsters balk. On wings of wax and feather I now see— There is no abyss but the one in me.