Bound to the Mast of Longing
Friend, tie me to the ship's mast
To ride to the rim of life.
Wounded at the ear's edge
Branded in burnt blood.
Friend, do not let me leap
From love's fierce sensual fire.
On dark horses of rising tide.
Brave breakers in beauty's risks.
Friend, if I am empty, embered.
Fill me with your wild cleansing.
Let your siren song of exile
Heal these stripes of wounded will.