The Seafarer's Diary; Berceuse: #3 Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

I am an automatic wanderer:
I lackadaisically brave
The riotous sea as I banter
With the Sun’s flustering fever
That the apertures of the promontories
Cannot sweat out with blood
And acrimony.
The sea does not need me,
That I am sure of
But I need the sea
For the sea has taught me
Everything:
From the sediments of my soul,
To the residues of pure flame,
A tormenting lament
And the chaos of trouble
Over these deceitful waters.

I set my nets in redundancy:
Anguished, exhausted
And spineless
My nets enervate as the sloshing
Of these infuriated waves
Tamper all that is left of my
Equanimity, my heart.
My pillars are frail
But my soul continues.
A mindless drudgery,
A game of thieves without an accolade:
I let the sea
Steal all of me.

Until nothing is left of me:
A seafarer without a sea.