Condition Three, Wartime Cruising

I was a good Buddhist jack tar, Confident to sail this ocean of time alone, All desire renounced and stowed away Like smuggled cargo I pretend is legal trade. I was well-practiced in the art of navigating perils, Steering clear of revenue cutters, hostile native islanders, And other such threatening complications. Now has a typhoon struck that threatens contentment, The swells have made me dizzy And my sea legs seem uncertain As I ride Poseidon’s roller coaster sick as a lubber, An unlucky smuggler caught in the act Of feeling long dormant desires stage mutiny And relieve me of command of my senses, Lusting after that other salty wonder.