Journal Entry 10-From a Young Man Swooned By Piracy

Candle light flickers it’s rhythmic dance and strikes shadows across this brittle parchment The sea is rolling, chomping at the boards, angered by our trespass I try in vain to steady my hand, to write with even flow The winds have long since given up its ghostly attack on our tattered sails and weathered faces Yet lines of distress are deepened within the folds of night As I sit below deck, cramped between pickled eggs and rotting barrels of gun powder, my mind transfers images of fields filled with flowers I can still see in my hand, malted ale, the taste of which still lingers in my mouth I would pay my weight in silver to touch land with my bare toes And forgive the madness that overtook me in the search of money and power Amongst the sea of raging greed and soiled men, I shall try to rest And pray my slumbering imaginings shall restore my hope, my optimism for the long day ahead, for the long trip home