Take The Island

The burning ships behind you,

Ruffle and rubble like thunder,

Fortelling fortune or fatigue,

Promising plunder or blunder.

The shore you cross,

Still blistering at night,

Were looming cliffs defeated,

By the crashing waves' might.

The only witness to your arrival,

Is the grass upon the dune,

Always under your feet,

Or above your grave soon.

Your steps are wiped away,

By sea and by air,

Wins and losses don't matter,

As though you were not there.

But you must take each step,

From the smouldering ash,

For you are from the sea,

Into cliffs you were made to crash.