From Out The Swirling Surf

Written by: Keith Bickerstaffe

From out the swirling surf 
he plucked a maiden fair, and in distress, 
whose innocence intrigued him so 
that he could not confess in speech, 
articulate her loveliness. 

He took her to his breast and blessed her, 
held her close, and quieted her fears; 
it was as if she knew him well, 
such recognition in her eyes, 
as joy and peace didst dry away her tears. 

They joined in union, enjoyed 
the purest of all sacraments, 
unsullied by lascivious display. 
They blended, as a tree blends with the sky, 
a fusion of the elements. 

He was Poseidon, she a wayward naiad, 
protected by his gentle touch, 
a helpless waif in need of solace, 
he the providence that calmed her, 
proffered bliss she craved so much. 

They were lovers found in time, 
wanderers who claimed a home, 
dreamers courting paradise, 
bound together now as one 
and sanctified, no more to roam.