My hand held fast to wooden rail,
A crest that beckoned forth the tide,
And westward leaned the weary Sky,
To meet the Sea in swollen pride.

There thundered blue on heaving grey,
A clash of breath and broken light,
The waters rose with iron roar,
The wind answered, armed for fight.

Yet no sheath emptied, no banner raised,
War waged without a word,
The Sky would claim the restless deep,
The Sea had named its vaulted Lord.

Between them burned a trembling line,
A silver seam the world had sewn,
A vessel teasing hungry hearts,
For none may reach what is unknown.

I sailed until the daylight thinned,
Until my shadow lost its name,
Yet still that line fled ever on,
A promise made to mock my claim.

For roads may end and maps may fade,
And harbours bind the heart to stay,
But Sky and Sea will never yield
The place where each holds sway.

So let it lie, that farthest edge,
Unwon by oar or mortal breath,
The horizon keeps its ancient oath,
To stand beyond the reach of death.

Penned by my hand on the 11th of Phaestian, in the year 996 AF.