Ever an unknown wave…

by kholinar

Pelenus, a mariner
in dark hour of night
with waves on his shoulders
and wood beneath his arms.
The rhythm of time
and undoing resounds,
of faces, dead ships
and this slow crossing
afloat on splinters of memory.
but wide-eyed, and hoping…
matted hair, vital;
power of days untold
of travels like sparrows
and, often, a fall
to depths, and emerging:
new life…

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