They suddenly feel the rush of Wind,
the Force of which
not likely to descend;
Cool, silent, faithfully Pale,
the sheet of Water,
the Keel, sets it's Sail.
Anger, Trust or utter demise,
the Sailor turns bow
against the Rise - -
toward Shore, toward Beach,
Away to float!
The distant call of younger Day,
the solemn reminder of the Grey;
pent with relief,
goaded by Pain, the Mast
bends stronger to the Stay.
On Land the foot holds
to stable things;
On Sea the bird may take to Wings;
dance on air and drift with pride,
only the Strenght is on his side!
The Truth of old established Times,
hold fast to those who know
the Everlasting rhymes;
The Infinite Testimony
for better Crimes !
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