Leaving Shore
Those who stay at the shore gained God’s bless,
And your smile’s like a shadow, weightless.
Nothing’s real now but the sword’s hilt.
The last wave and the sign of the cross
Promise us absolution and luck.
At the moment we start, horizon’s still black.
Can you really predict for the profit or loss?
Who are we - birds that free to decide
Flying higher than clouds that run so fast,
Or we’re slaves of the sea, and our past
Is a series of days to the endless night?
We are setting the sails, playing an ancient game,
Cutting waves and the strangers’ hopes.
Will be torn up, threads of life and mast ropes,
But the east burns with crimson dawn’s flame.
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