Emotional state: Tsunami.
A wreckage awaits; the captain being drunk is out of his senses.
The tempest calls for more sacrifice — more corpses to sink into the blue abyss.
What effort does the captain make, but nod to the hailing wind — the sailing wind.
There’s no effort to be made, no word to be said, only acceptance of the unending gloom.
Death is certain. “Serve my poems at my funeral,” says the captain. “If only the abyss of the sea, which loves me much, returns my lifeless body.”
Art by Clive Kirk