Alex Hoffmann

Rookie [Adeotitus]

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Branching off

Guided by her gentle whisper I sail,
I fly under Thine eye through the waters of old,
Heeling over, I wish the current not to prevail.

On and on I go blown by that gale,
hoping to be free from their dreadful hold,
Guided by her gentle whisper I sail

frightened by the thought of donning my father's chainmail

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