Of Tide And Sky Poem by Henry Love

She rolls upon the sigh of Orion 

Her voice Carries 

thro brume and mist 

These were days 

when the tide was high

The waters pure 

My Soul volcanic

As the scoriac valleys 

Onwards strolled

While our destiny remained

Entwined with the stars 

I said, "Gracefully she flies

Between the Goliath

 Rivers of Spain

Our Salvation is Nigh

Encrusted through water

Our hope is restored."

And souls! The brave souls

Braced against the tide

Through the mid-December

(As we knew not 

the month nor day)

Harbored there,  

Beneath the air

Buried those poor souls

Between the shore and Bay

It was there 

In the city by the shore

When it was spoken 

But gave no token

In the days yond and fair 

Many years and longer still 

In the forsaken days of yore 

That those men 

Will not have died in vain

"Dust you were created 

Through sand and sin 

And shall you return

To dust again."