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Each path forward fades into uncertainty, much like the mariner adrift on identity’s ocean.

Placeholder image by Midjourney v6

Monologue of a Unmoored Mariner

"I am a part of all that I have met;

Yet all experience is an arch wherethro’

Gleams that untravell'd world whose margin fades

For ever and forever when I move."

 – Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Adrift in Identity's Ocean

I drift on seas of self, a sailor lost,

Tossed on the tides of an identity.

No map, no chart, no sextant, star-embossed,

Can navigate this vast uncertainty.

I am a ship becalmed in my own mind,

A compass needle spinning, unaligned.

The Maelstrom of the World

The world's a whirlpool, hungry and immense,

It drags me down, indifferent to my throes.

I spin and spiral, seething and incensed,

As riptides rip, as ruthless currents close.

Like flotsam, I am flung and flailed and hurled,

In the maelstrom of this maddening world.

Echoes Across the Void

I send my signals to the careless skies,

I send my semaphores, my flags unfurled.

I send my ciphered screams, my muted cries,

I send my pleas into the salty swirl.

But all dissolve, like foam upon the waves,

Absorbed into the ocean's open graves.

The Weight of Proof

A cargo of corroboration rests

Within my hold, a leaden, lading weight.

Stacked file on file, attested truths compressed,

They ballast me against the howling hate.

But barnacles of doubt encrust the hull,

And apathy's an anchor, dragging, dull. 

The Sirens of Despair

The sirens sing their songs of swirling black,

Of crushing depths, of comfort in the cold.

They croon of still eternities that slack

The bindings of this world, so worn and old.

To yield, to sink, to slip beneath the foam-

Seems sweet against the harshness of my roam.

The Narrowing of Horizons

The ports of hope recede beyond my ken,

The beacons dwindle, guttering and weak.

No lighthouse sweeps its salvatory pen

Across the darkling deeps I cannot speak.

Each way is waves, each wake a weary froth,

A voyage void, a dead-reckoning lost.

The Plummet and the Plume

And so, I sound the fathoms of my fate,

I plumb the depths, I cast the weighted line.

To sink seems sweet, to cease the cruel wait,

To be the lead and not the burdened twine.

A swift descent, a fall into the free-

Seems kinder than this crawl through apathy.

Surrender to the Sublime

The vastness whispers velvet, voids me on,

Its emptiness an absolution blest.

In yielding to its yawn, its siren song,

I find, at last, the solace of the rest.

To be subsumed, consumed, and so redeemed,

Seems sacred to this sailor lost and seamed.

Peace in the Profundity

So let me sink into this softer sea,

This womb of nothingness, this calm embrace.

In drowning, let me drink eternity,

In losing self, let me at last find grace.

For in the crushing depths, there is a balm,

An absolution in oblivion's psalm.