blow in, bright breeze from shores afar
and tell of where the young sailors are
for whence they went they have not come
and rough, the sea is mute and dumb
the stars dip down and touch the waves
and echo their reflection, grave
in their faces does reflect
this new, new world and it's defect
when morning dawns and breaks the day
the caves have nothing more to say
for our good luck of treasured gold
the men before have sold their souls
21 June, 2011
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