The Albatross

THE ALBATROSS Under thunder blows a colder wind, across an endless sea, Like a voice from the call of a far off shore in the solitude we perceive; For ago remained an innocent age, torn away by a thousand years Where sincerity alone is tied to its own majestic grace; But flow on the bluest waves over the oceans deep and wide Waiting long for things abandoned Forsake those condemned to the early dawn, far past ten thousand year’s, Still in all its silent symmetry, flies by a bird on wing; Mysterious seemed that outstretched arm, in all 10 feet in span Grasping what came from the east, bound to rays of light; For seas are blessed by both good and bad Waiting long for what’s abandoned Fifty years is doomed to its own intent, lost in its own emotion, While all that we can hold, is a time fifty thousand past; Come see what waits is a soul possessed, holding a daylights passage Where what seemed lost is an albatross, staring through its blacker eyes; But all we see is the bluest sea, left under tomorrow’s sky Waiting long for things abandoned Crashes still those crystalline waves, warmed by spring’s rebirth, Until we see an albatross, departing as the seasons change; And a hundred thousand years escapes, slips away from time and place Bound to the cliffs and bound to the rushes of a land so far away; For over the bluest sea, is the sunlight that we seek Waiting long for those things abandoned Surrounded is he who waits in the shadow, lost to the rhythm we’ve created, While somewhere stands an albatross, and drinks its salted wine; For now is past a million years, gone to the mystery of life Lost in the worth of simplicity and the innocents of desire; But now the bluest sea is calm, with no sign of what is past Waiting long for things abandoned Escaped the thought of an albatross bound to the symbol of its virtue, Leashed to the seas and the sound of the waves, longing a far off shore; Hold on to the meaning of our vision, past ten million years And hear the call of an albatross, its beauty and its wonder; For here we see the bluest sea, in a land of lost intent Waiting long for those things abandoned By m.norton