The wind blows cold
It shatters my bones
And slivers of rain
Punch straight through my soul
I’ve loved so far beyond my means
Last spring I gave her all my leaves
And I have grown so thin and worn
In bark I clothed her supple form
She begged for more.
The sea, her song is sweet
But she rages,
How she rages…
She runs with ghosts and the patience of others
Through fields of regret where the grass cuts her legs
Past razors of guilt, of shrugged off compassion
She leaves muddy trails of blood, tears and sweat.
Your hull is torn, your canvas in tatters,
You’ve bartered the last coin for biscuits and rum
The looking glass shows you a care worn expression
But sail out once more, the hard work’s not done.
Stone of the Ages
A bold figure stands in the valley of shadow
A statue of rock between two moss lined walls