Sunday, March 15, 2009

Haven

The even' tide is imminent, its turbid ebb and flow,

Caresses cold with stony chill, the water fast and low.

Such sorrow, it cannot be spoken, soft sand slips through the glass,

A bold, brave youth, yet undisturbed, still all the die are cast.

Neptune turns his face away, the overture unheard,

This fate, perhaps, already chosen? Life a dream deferred?

And in the house of crumbling woe, my head betwixt my hands,

Recall I then the pillar strong, such storms it may withstand.

Protector, keeper, everlasting; tempest cruel may be endured,

Little boat, in little Haven, how strongly is the vessel moored?

'Neath firmament she bobs and sways, beryl eyes take in the gale,

It crashes round, the ship goes down, the winds begin to wail,

And then it's passed, it couldn't last, mere echoes in the sound,

Our little light, so vibrant, bright, is nowhere to be found.

Has lady fortune mercy lost? Will wist never awaken?

The gull, he rests not on the perch, her journey never taken.

Hear the howls of sailors past; their cries caress the moon,

And so the tide is coming fast, the ship has sailed too soon.

No comments:

Post a Comment