A Pirate Ponders...

In the morning,
he consults
the tattered chart
of his broken heart,
considering
which direction
he should start.

At noon he
takes a reading
of the sun
hoping to find
a line to run.

At night,
immersed
in moon glow,
he ponders
which star
to follow.

He knows
he is doomed
to roam;
there is
no course
that leads
to home.

Strangers,
islands,
the open sea,
the only way
for him to be.

Soon,
though when
he cannot say,
he must choose
a bearing
and sail away,
away and away
and away,
into the mystery
of the day:

Alone, outbound,
without a sound,
  - mce