My God’s grim grave
Slides down the flames
Fires of Acre
Ablaze my Holy Land
The dearest flee my fortresses
Behind
No need to clench the shield
On the blood-stained barbicans
Whilst my jewel Salome child
Sealed my heart exile
My boyhood gardens bloom with ashes
As I break through to the
New Last Stand
My Kingdom of Jerusalem
Cries with its burning bells
Just the quick glance at the mainland
My Emerald Island muse
Now no more than
Gorgo Medusa
My Drakkar cuts
The amber dunes
The sapphire sea Sahara
All around
Though
Poseidon threw the dice
St. Elmo’s fire
Lit the storm’s paths
My father’s beacon
As blind as Höðr’s eyes
My skipper’s ghost ship skips
The Promised Land
Its Grail of freedom
Soulless
The Khazar coast dawn delight
My anchor almost hunts
The new homeland
New fires of Acre
Arise above the golden grounds
I see them burning Bucha
As the new Tsar dreams Batu Kahan’s
Demon dreams
Now I wake up seaworthy to
The new unknown
25.08.2022,
Bialystok city, Poland
“Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than those you did. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from safe harbor. Catch the wind in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”
― Mark Twain
“Life is a journey, not a destination.”
― Ralph Waldo Emerson
„We live, as we dream – alone. . . .”
― „Heart of Darkness” Joseph Conrad
