There was a time I was sincere
And the sky to me was dear.
And my heart was a candid white,
But that was before the strife.
Blown by a roar from shore to shore
I witnessed the most sombre door.
My reflection in the Styx,
Was etched in onyx.
There was a time I was sincere,
And to be so I still aspire.
But there are no mirrors on this ship,
Apart from my etching in onyx.
Storm has passed, and seasick sailors have rowed off a sea of nuances,
But these are other rooms, other voices.
The misfit is the ebony,
And that is the root of my agony.
I belong, on the outside, far beyond the rising tide,
In such darkness, where there is nothing left to hide.
If there ever was an apparition as the light,It shall know on which tide I lie.
Note: This poem may be taken in two ways. Firstly about alienation, if you belong in the light , it will flow through you, otherwise you are where you belong.Secondly it is about death, the somber door is the door of death and the narrator sees his reflection in the Styx. But he does not belong there as well. He is a sailor. He belongs to the waves, even if they are of the Styx .He just wants to be free, to have nothing to hide , whether in darkness or in light.
But then again it is a poem and it may have several interpretations, these are just the two I could think of.