Journey

.

Black bird on my shoulder,

A young crow is aquothing,

It has removed the boulder

Or was it but clothing?

The omens have spoken

And the bone dice have been cast,

Virgil stands atop the mast

A ship not yet broken;

What see his elvish eyes

Upon the seas and their rhyes?

It is for the sailor’s heart

Only to know this part.

.


Even eighty days might not be enough to cross this sea…

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s