Tossed by the sea’s great waves

And battered by the wailing wind.

The storm is crashing, the rain is pouring.

The sides are creaking, the sail is fallen.

Dark sky and grey sea

High prow and broken timbers.

Down, down, down.

Below, below, below.

Storm, storm.

Beneath.

           The events in his life seemed unavoidable; as if nothing in this world could have stopped the things that transpired in the dark night, yet we will never know. I wonder if he ever imagined the terror that he would have to endure forevermore the night that he closed that window and replaced the sword up against the mantelpiece were it had rested for generations. He must have known that thoughts of the past would haunt him forevermore, causing him to seal himself off from the world permanently in hopes that they would never find him. But who can tell?

'Twas a dark gray night on the old North Shore
- And the wind and the waves were wild -
That the black-caped traveler came to her door
And begged to rest a while.

An hour's rest from the savage wind
She dared deny no man,
So graciously she asked him in
To sit and warm his hands.

She stirred the fire and bade him sit
Before the merry blaze.
Sit he did, and stared at it
With a lost and distant gaze.

Tree Primeval

Upon the mount I stand, a tree of eld,
Deformed, but wise, and humbly bent to earth
From brutal storms that cow the bravest man.
This eve I watch a most ferocious storm,
That cruelly savors thrashing wheat in fields,
And proudly floods the streams with pouring rain,
While thunder loudly crashes high above.
But hark! The frenzied storm now fades away,
The gray and dark, foreboding clouds withdraw
And in their place resides the golden sun.