journey

once you spend weeks and weeks on board of a ship
in the desert of a green-grey and impenetrable sea, a for long hours dull sky,
the sound of wind only interrupted by the the call of seagulls,
your sleep accompanied by the continuous noise of the engine,
you stop thinking, you sway inside in the rhythm of all, and
you get tired. you are not bored, you sleep, you wake,
you watch birds sailing the storm and you just breathe
the salt, you are.
whatever you are and whosoever.
you become as impenetrable as the Northern seas.
you feel inside.

this kind of impenetrable being is what you will
find in many a sailor.
some talk to you.
and you see that the ship is often their retreat from
an incapability or displeasure dealing
with social obligations on land, at home,
wheresoever.

this impenetrability is not happiness and it is
not unhappiness.
it is just one way of life.

maybe it is even all i can manage.
i feel too disturbed by having to stay
peaceful when i am not: either i am or i am not.
alone i don't have to bother.
i don't know.