Branching Off Poem by Alex Hoffmann

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
moving subtly away - pierced by the cold,
Heeling over, I wish the current not to prevail

The current pushes me to fight - hearty and hale
but yon my death - ‘twould be foretold
guided by her gentle whisper I sail

What life is that to fight and drink thine ale
My warriors potential I hope to withhold.
Heeling over, I wish the current not to prevail

Leaving that life to live my own tale
I'd rather not fight to take their gold
Guided by her gentle whisper I sail,
Heeling over, I wish the current not to prevail.