One of many sonnets: no one knows where I am

no one knows where I am

A nomad, moving on the Earth, travers-
ing where I want and naked if I seek
to be; a sailor on an oft-revers-
ing sea, with no one else to say or speak
an acclamation for heroic acts, or
disapprobation for those not so brave;
for I could be where e'er I surf the bore
and never let a tide make me its slave --
you cannot see what lies inside, the core
of my ambitious spirit, what I think
contrasting with the way I seem, so more
of me is hidden than is known; my synch-
rony allows me to survive my lone-
ly journey where the changing winds have blown.