Identity and Impermanence
As the longship came ashoreto the tundran pine strewn floor
droplets sprung from rested oar.
Gliding silently it came
at sunset with sails aflame.
Neither home it had, nor name.
Though the world had heard its tone;
creaking mast and hawser moan
to itself it was unknown.
Poetry by An-ders
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Written on 2020-09-23 at 22:54
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Lawrence Beck |
