Thirteen years as Captain, and one hundred years of service down below.
When did I make that bargain, how many years do I have left at the tiller?
The deal was imperfect, and I've forgotten what I agreed.
Even while I get to play Captain Jack Sparrow, I still must pay my keep.
Fate will not wait until my true toil begins.
These tears silently spilling down my face are all black pearls.
Hard earned through experience, life, pain, and love.
Hard birthed, tearing me wider with the loss of every one.
In front of me grows a pile of pearls, nacre glistening black, beautiful, and tragic.
How many have I earned, how many will I get to keep?
A wave crashes the stern, and the black pearls spill...
Off the deck, little parts of me, falling into the storm swirled depths.
Lost again.
Spark by Beth Scolfield