Wednesday, July 3, 2013

The Foreigner

Though storm and calm both overcome
Or murky channels hide
Plotting his course, steadfast and true
His warm heart open wide
Why then does he lonely stand
His maps in ciphers speak
The stony wheel resist his hand
The lodestone fail to seek

One hundred days and more he's tried
To reach the greening shore
It wavers tempting lines of hills
But the mirage eludes him more
On land his hopes and dreams were built
His blood it runs of old
Down bracken tufted river silt
And rocky cliffs so cold

See, there he played when life was young
When grass was tall as trees
And giant steps round worlds were run
It's scars but scabs on knees
Now stranded in this iron boat
His scare'd dreams do ride
While on the wind strange tongues cry out
"My God?" to silent skies

Sept 2000

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