Baskadia

And the circle goes on;

As the tide rises, you pull the sails,

Nature nor gree, sailor self 'nor' relent,

But 'Las Las', nature gets the best of us.

Strong man, strong man,

Na bone strong, essence is fickle.

The toil, the war, the will to sail ahead,

Ahead, ahead; the cry of the valiant.

"Till I get the spoils", a sailors creed,

But still, what if "all well nor be well".

You huff, you puff, even, you shine the hull,

But who's to 'shine', the icebergs on the sail.

Still, a must, the weather-beaten must sail,

Set a sail, clean your deck, fill your hold,

The fight na for the valiant; the tested.

If the ship capsizes, na still rest you rest.

A smooth sail, doth not a sailor make,

For poseidon, forget not the valiant.

Their treasures, he keeps shining forever,

Their beloved; he guards as one who owes a debt.

Oh beloved capsized ship, oh what treasures you bury,

What grace, heart, kindness, spirit you have swallowed.

Oh thou darkest and deepest of oceans,

What life you have taken,

Sweet, beautiful sail cut short.

S.O. Broda#

May the Lord keep your beloved ones.

Originally - a sailor and his ship - 18/12/2022

- a poem for Opy