Call of the Doldrums

Wait upon the seas my dear, at one spot near the equator
'til all that's left of moving wind is longing deep, near the end
Of soul's calamity, where the sun beats down. At first: serenity
'Comes uncomfortable sound of nothing singing on and on,
Nothing rattling nothings' tongue; A dangerous liaison
To us from storms that dwell and stir from the bellies' groan.

"Day after day" the bloody sun laughs at lips that crack with smiles
and bleed with spoken epitaphs, cause water leaves no water for us
And thirsty seas challenge mad men's rafts. But if we give up
Then the fate is ours for betrayal comes from the weight on our shoulders
And so we sit and listen to the song from the belly's deep, restless moan
But lo...if the wind would just pick up, as safety's call from God's mention.

But no... the song of the deep has called and commanded sleep to fall on all:
Red Rum tipped lips share loneliness from one's blood drips
And home-sickness. Chase the dreams of land and love, chase the scenes
Of past love's fall, but nothing stings for at last the small endless bleating
Of desire is gall. My life, my loves, my actions not entering the twinings
Of my century: just dire still, and dreadful call of all things dark from all below.

But lo…and no, the stillness creeps on and tickles still and mindless throngs
Of begging creeds and mentioned crypts bending skill to listlessness.
We're in the wake of walking dead on broken sidewalks from the fallen dread
From planks of ships too high up to see but casting shadows on misery.
Call on the sleep for one last thread of hope to see and wake instead
Call on sweet dreams where no hearts bled their last retort to those well-fed.