Emerging from below to open air,
Pariah draws a breath to satiate
his lungs which cry from stuffiness inside
the humid hull akin to desert heat
if much the moister than its air so bak'd,
so like the delta's marsh that once was home.
The sailor at the helm salutes; he nods
and makes toward the balustrade at bow
to be away from anyone awake
above the deck to steer the ship at night, 10
and standing at a vessel's bow again
doth stir a memory inside of him
of falling overboard from just this place
upon a ship he sailed years ago.
He pushes out these thoughts and leans upon
the balustrade, and once the mem'ry's gone
he gazes over th'waters bright and dark
across their rolling surface by the light
of Luna's visage full and visible
with lack of clouds t'obstruct her silver glow, 20
which hungrily the sea consumes below
until her light is stopp'd at certain depths
forever wrapp'd in dark of their abyss.
Despite his mental clearing still there comes
a memory, but this he doth indulge.
The Maiden occupies his mind as he
doth gaze upon the waters; would she give
approval of this marriage to his Spouse?
He wonders, looking up toward the stars
and knowing that he'll never get to ask 30
whilst still he lives, and never see her face
or hear her laugh or smell her fragrant hair,
so rather he is forc'd to guess and fret
with guilt, uncertainty and loathing self.
The silence of his thoughts—except the creaks
of th'hull below—is broken by the falls
of heavy buskin boots upon the boards
approaching where he holds the balustrade.
The Captain places mugs upon the rail
and downs the first to toss aside before 40
he says his words; and when he's done they are:
"Imbibe another with me. Half and half."
The Captain slides the second mug across
the balustrade, maintaining grip upon
the handle so it dothn't fall to sea.
Pariah shakes his head, however, here:
"I thank ye for the offer, but decline,
for I'd prefer sobriety tonight."
A smirk accompanies the sliding mug
away from him, revok'd as Captain says: 50
"I thought ye said ye were a sailor once,
and certainly ye drank like one today
in celebration of yer marriage oath."
When still to this, Pariah doth remain
in reverie, so captivated by
the sea and thought, the Captain changes up
his tactic, asking our protagonist:
"A troubled sleep, me lad? Perhaps ye've now
arriv'd upon the re'lization that
the woman down below now owns yer soul 60
and shall—without an ounce of needed luck—
decide for ye yer venturing must end,
and time's arriv'd for ye provide for her—
along with all the children she'll desire—
sustainable a living on the land,
which certainly a former sailor as
yerself would find detestable as I."
Pariah shakes his head at this and says:
"The sea hath never been the place for me,
for though the navy first is where I found 70
my taste for doing good by slaying those
who wish'd to harm the innocent, I know
there's more of evil living on the land
for me to deal with as I arrive."
The Captain's eyes do widen in response
to what it seems Pariah doth imply.
"Perhaps I pegg'd ye wrong in guessing ye
were weak and cowardly as first portay'd,
'cause travelling already, I admit,
is difficult and should've tipp'd me off, 80
but now to hear ye say ye rend the damn'd
out from their flesh, doth fit a diff'rent frame."
He downs the second mug and belches loud;
it drops from hand and rolls along the deck.
Pariah gazes up upon the moon
and in response he seems to muse t'himself:
"But days of slaying evil are behind,
as are adventures, as you prior said,
for I've a newer promise now to keep,
which I've decided more important to 90
myself than ridding Earth of evil men;
and do I not deserve to settle down
with all I've done already t'ward this scourge?
I'll take the rest I've earn'd when finally
my Spouse and I have land to call our own
and nothing you could say would change my mind."
The Captain beats his chest to wrest the air
that's caught inside toward his mouth and out
before replying: "I'll not stop ye, lad,
though sounds as like ye're trying to convince 100
yerself the more than me. But still do know
I only joke; no harm is meant by me.
If ye would like to settle, let it be
whilst men as I continue sailing Sea
with differing opinions, but respect
for men as ye, though often still we jest."
Pariah's drawn again from reverie
t'apologize for acting rude toward
this benefactor ferrying our two
across the sea for such a little cost, 110
who also did a service earlier
in marrying his heart with Spouse's own,
and once it's been accepted quiet falls
betwixt the two, whereat Pariah's gaze
doth lower to the mark upon his palm
to wonder at the horror that he holds,
so symb'liz'd by the cosmic twins he grasps,
and at its sight doth now he think to ask
an observation that he made before:
"I'd like to ask about when earlier 120
you offer'd homily toward the mass;
the way you spoke of Sky without the type
of reverence that most deliver out
and how you talk'd about the rolling sea
as though you think it mirrors Earth instead.
I'm not so sure what I should make of it,
so please explain this type of sacrilege."
The Captain smacks his lips and says to this:
"I've heard that farther south the Earth and sky
be lovers in a marital dispute 130
about their children, all humanity."
Pariah nods to all of this without
elaborating, for he wishes t'hear
instead of preaching at this moment's time,
which prompts the Captain to resume his speech:
"Well, here in Middle Lands we don't believe
the sky hath any part; tis just the sky!
An emptiness with lights to help our eyes
and dark to let us sleep when time for that,
created by the Earth, reflecting Sea 140
whilst Sea Thimself is where all life is born
and where it doth return with corpses whelm'd—
though burial at Sea is better still
'cause this allows connection quicker with
the waters once again t'recycle souls."
Pariah juggles what he hath been told
around within his head before he asks:
"Then you do not believe the stars are souls,
but rather that our spirits are reused
again and on again, and that the ones 150
that you and I possess have occupied
some myriad of forms before our own?"
"Right, aye. I think the Sea is like a womb,"
the Captain slurs, now leaning on the rail
so not to sway and fall with drunkenness.
"Or maybe amniotic fluid works
to best exemplify what I convey,
and down below the fishes, in the depths
a million human souls do congregate,
and whether all of them do stay intact, 160
or mix and match to form as diff'rent souls—
creating diff'rent people when they rise—
I can't pretend to know to answer ye,
but certainly I think it likely more
the waters be important; not the sky,
though I've been wrong afore, so watch these words,
or ye may find yer Gods unhappy with
the heresy ye've learn'd when meeting Them."
Considering what Captain's said to him,
Pariah's just about to argue when 170
instead of this he keeps the lighter mood
with this remark that's only half sincere:
"Have ever you consider'd in the stead
of running trading vessels, taking up
the cloth and preaching to a mass's heed?
I'd think perhaps you'd like that sort of work."
The Captain bursts with laughter: "There's a joke
if ever in my life I've come to hear.
I'm certain now I pegg'd ye wrong at first,
so please accept me humblest fly-off here!" 180
Though Captain signs obscenity in hand,
the grin accompanying this is kind,
and so Pariah chuckles with the man
for but this single quiet moment ere
a cry resounds from in the nest of crows:
"A ship is coming from our starboard side,
say half a mile out, but maybe less!"
The moment's broken by the cried alarm
as th'helmsman rings th'alarm astern the ship
to wake the crew below the deck and call 190
the lot of them to arms. The Captain turns
now barking orders all across the deck,
but ere he jumps amidships from the bow,
he turns toward Pariah, patting sides
both naked of a weapon, and he says:
"We'll put this conversation on a hold.
Ye said ye've been in naval combat—well,
tis time to show yer skills me sailor lad."
Pariah gazes over th'waters black,
his mind aflutter with anxiety 200
at doing vi'lence for the first of times
since causing—by his mark—the accident,
for he is unaware what could occur
if he again lets slip his will through th'hand.
Yet knowing still there is no other way,
Pariah nods his head. "I'll need a sword." 206