04-15-2013, 08:56 AM
Aye, my rolling, fishy friends, a'bobbin' out in black thrashed, blue flashed night:
hold course for me and make no sudden slew, for I will wake for you when time is right.
Come flicker flame, do not shy out...run fast and thirsty round the ring 'til bright!
Look out! Look far! See them, pale and shriven in their prayers. Mastheads glimmerin' white
in steamin' ride, says hope is still afloat in this the wildest blow, and this the highest tide!
Ah, but how they need me now, the strangest want for sure. So yellow up, my oily friend,
and only company. Fly to my staggered, blinded boys, all washed in frothed cold brine;
they peer grim-gripped through salty sting, with vision scaled, to glimpse your lantern lance.
Fling out your long cast, time-fast beam and warn the seeking souls to keep from me.
We'll grant their wish, and wheels will judder rudders hard, to turn about and bearing break.
Thank God, they'll say, at last we see the light, and we are saved!
And they will hold themselves and tightly bond. Comrades closer by the peril past;
but me, a stranger to the day, and to the misted, fog-feart crews, I am alone.
I talk to Him and tell my tales of crashing crests and ink washed skies, of winds
that skin the dolphins' fins, and storms that suck the mercury back down the glass.
In times like these He hears my voice; though gulls rough tossed from hoisted swell,
all rise a'screaming like the babes at home. At home. At home. At home.
Aye, say I, this fire-tipped finger shan't be bent nor broken by the writhing deep!
I'll keep this watch, my rolling, fishy friends...and proudly send you harbour bound.
Tell them you saw the sweeping sign that all is fine, and I will soon be there.
Tectak
April 2013
hold course for me and make no sudden slew, for I will wake for you when time is right.
Come flicker flame, do not shy out...run fast and thirsty round the ring 'til bright!
Look out! Look far! See them, pale and shriven in their prayers. Mastheads glimmerin' white
in steamin' ride, says hope is still afloat in this the wildest blow, and this the highest tide!
Ah, but how they need me now, the strangest want for sure. So yellow up, my oily friend,
and only company. Fly to my staggered, blinded boys, all washed in frothed cold brine;
they peer grim-gripped through salty sting, with vision scaled, to glimpse your lantern lance.
Fling out your long cast, time-fast beam and warn the seeking souls to keep from me.
We'll grant their wish, and wheels will judder rudders hard, to turn about and bearing break.
Thank God, they'll say, at last we see the light, and we are saved!
And they will hold themselves and tightly bond. Comrades closer by the peril past;
but me, a stranger to the day, and to the misted, fog-feart crews, I am alone.
I talk to Him and tell my tales of crashing crests and ink washed skies, of winds
that skin the dolphins' fins, and storms that suck the mercury back down the glass.
In times like these He hears my voice; though gulls rough tossed from hoisted swell,
all rise a'screaming like the babes at home. At home. At home. At home.
Aye, say I, this fire-tipped finger shan't be bent nor broken by the writhing deep!
I'll keep this watch, my rolling, fishy friends...and proudly send you harbour bound.
Tell them you saw the sweeping sign that all is fine, and I will soon be there.
Tectak
April 2013