Thy Words

Thy words of exultation
Do rend in suffocation
The minions of a nation
That had encompassed me;

And harking, never slacking,
Their subtle whips were cracking—
While hateful, only lacking
The vice that’s born by thee.

They spoke their way to terror—
The nights enduring error
Brought me to be the bearer
Of salt and teary sea—

So now, though ships are sailing
And flaps of wind are flailing
Throughout the masts and railing
To whisper unto me,

No longer shall thy choices
(My hidden vice and voices)
Dare to chart the courses
That are set out by me.

For hell is made by motion,
Though lost within the ocean.