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 alone

There is no colour here, no life here
Only wrath permeates

Vows spoken to the wind
Utterance of will, of vision

A treacherous trail taken
Resonant furor demands
Attentive ear, steadfast feet

Wind swallows hedonic visions
Here, all past is abandoned
Laid to rest with fallen gods

Lone, defiant oak overturned
Surveys this dark panorama
Here I sit, here I submit
To the hail of rock
To the battle-scarred landscape

Return 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