Riding the backs of great swells

Curling iron grey prow cleaved

Spray salty as blood

Staining eager lips

The temper to cool hot veins

Thrumming in time to full bellied sail

Thunder racing sleek wolf

Running across fume feathered roiling deeps.

Hands married to tiller

Eyes fixed as by nails to the west

Hung upon the vault of heaven

Chasing the fleeing edges

Falling off the blank spaces

Hearth and home forsaken cold memories

Drowned in leagues of tattered foam

Because there is a horizon.


3 Responses to “Vinland”

  1. This really evokes the senses! I love it and the adventurous spirit and determination that comes with just having a horizon to go towards. ❤

  2. we were beyond that western horizon Says:

    a story telling big bang – from a tiny package, all manner of wonderful images emerge
    another voice has spoken!

  3. his father Says:

    Wandering through this abandoned place and wondering.
    What being inhabited this abode and who did he hope to punish by leaving?
    What thought was ever given to those left behind asking heartfealt questions of their own?
    I stand weeping and screaming in fury – the emotion of my fears.

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