Thanks for the push off shore,
delight of the sky,
cackling ashen clouds
the distance that Columbus wrought,
on tired sea legs,
where he rotted
from the inside- the chosen few.
I knew what it felt like–
He never found what he planned out too.
So imagine our failures, the tragic voyage of me and you.
No return trip, just tripping under foot.
Burn the fleet, the scourge as our past, torch the entire crew.
One ship, then the next, careens into the blaze, timbers and ash,
fallen deep, submerged into the last, the fog like haze, billows of smoke.
Sunken treasure, wreckage and relics
left alone as we sought out uncharted waters
and far off distant lands.
Out of the reach of all the dissenting hands,
anguish and bloodlust,
If I can’t have you, no one else can.