Mists Along Florencia

Dragging, tired footsteps

Through the ancient grains of sand

Snow drifting down

Obscuring my trail

Filling my footsteps
Jagged these rock are, rolling fervent waves

Assault grey, hateful cove

Upon which I shamble towards the horizon

No man’s destination

I am lost

This stormy, grey sea

A backdrop to ancient glory

Hail now turned to stone

The victor stands aloneThere is no colour here, no life here

Only wrath permeatesVows spoken to the wind

Utterance of will, of visionA treacherous trail taken

Resonant furor demands

Attentive ear, steadfast feetWind swallows hedonic visions

Here, all past is abandoned

Laid to rest with fallen godsLone, defiant oak overturned

Surveys this dark panorama

Here I sit, here I submit

To the hail of rock

To the battle-scarred landscapeReturn to a land of life

To walk; and live; and breathe

Forget not this hateful place

Forget not the vow, the sacrifice

Shipwreck cove remains