Where in the islands northwest of devotion

Where in the islands northwest of devotion
Utters that voice that is sweetly deceitful,
Dark but serene in its haunting erosion
Deep in the mind? All my pieces the ocean
Washes away, who can find them? They people
Thoughts and ideas in the eddies and breakers
Wide of the safety of lanes, in the wake surge.

Green was the isle, and the hair of the maidens
Freely exulted in breezes from seaward.
There in contentment for just one occasion
Spent I a morning; the sands then were weighed in
Human retention; one-nature. The leeward
Wind would remind me. The salt; the enchantment.
Lost is that land; who could seek its revanchment?

Green was supplanted, and greener but darker
Rose the approaching domain of the tidal
Ocean, outside of all time with no marker.
Deep in the being unconscious, no ark or
Lifeboat surmounting a solemn requital.
Death is a sailor unmatched. And a singer
Silent encircles in vapor and lingers.

Somewhere an echo of wanting ascended
Out from the foam of a distant embankment
Born of the fog—the horizon that ended
Roiling beyond all my senses, all flanked in
Luster's mystique which all reason has sank in.
Hissing and spraying, it beckoned me forward,
Out to the vista where sunlight is cornered.

Sing me the song that my wits will recoil from,
Menace of men who, unwilling, must listen.
Rapture cognition; my muscles, embroil them;
Cast off exhaustion, the waters! They glisten!
Only that song will be fit for my mission.
Madness or passion is fueling my rowing,
Swimming if oars will refuse where I'm going.

Millions of chopping collisions a-cresting,
Hacking away at the tendons of reason.
None but a manic bereavement, and testing
Any exception to fancy as treason.
Always unknowing my heart which believes in
What? Will it soon be discovered, why waits these
Visions of countries on waves that my fate sees?