Impure

         Impure     



              Would that I had ne’r set thy course to indulgence.

              Won the Kraken’s fractured slumber to thine own, the titan’s curse thrives not but to dethrone, turned grim, yet void of true intone.


               


               My hand is seldom sought from Albion, framed in bare sky, seems cause permits awed spectacles. For calm the waves, a gentle hum, and to the rain, no dance had come. The sails breathe still, the mast serene, my face doth bathed in sweet unseen. Hark! The island, rare to spy, for but resides deserted brine, and waves do all, save intertwine. Let anchor loose and ropes to fly, hail thy god’s who aid us nigh! Whilst I do gather men anew, dock safe the vessel, bid adieu.

Ashore we lye, strange land be this? Methinks we’ve failed to see amiss?

Thence thunder struck, and earth did quake, ash from smothered flames did shake, and lo, the dreaded serpent’s wake! Cling close to wood, drink not the sea; perhaps death’s not yet come for me! Weary to some true intent, to rid myself of cruel lament, be this the day I last repent? The demon’s eye eased on another, one of youth, in blood, a brother. Imposed by fear of earthly flesh, stirred of by thoughts of lust, afresh, I thrust him far, to fiends enmesh. See Yet! The ill assault did shift! My kin stood firm, tis’ I who drift, a simple stroke, deemed all but swift. Stalked by evil, dwindled near, I watch my ship, as I adhere, into the depths, endless abyss, carved to thy mind, to disappear.

Thus, at long last, envisioned truths have steered alas, for though mine eyes hold not regret, impurities dark silhouette.