The Sands of Ithaca
The vacant space upon times etheral shores
Has me asking if Odysseus has ever touched before?
The waves lapping, swirling sand across my feet
Leaves me little gold that I might keep
The thistle and thorns woven into a crown to wear
Placed upon with such gentle care
The shores all rock and a cliff so high
How can I just climb on by?
Moments are dark, the sea will free
Come follow to the ends with me
The isle is small just temporal best
Back home from a ten year's quest
He wades the shores and falls to knees
She bends down to claim his ease
They embrace the winds of time
That binds them to the threads of mind
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