How erotic and powerful you are, my feminine drum. Your surge is primal. Carrying with you swells and tides from both storms and calm seas long past. Overpowering me with pleasure, recollection, rage and resurrection. You pirate my vessel as your drum beats plant their hard sole boots on my deck.
You only commandeer when her vessel and crew are trained and fearless. Swelling, rolling, spiraling with a momentum and power not mine to control. You put my hands on the wheel of my birthright – and point to the horizon. Dark skies, calm seas, it matters not. I will never look back.