In a chill of autumn’s dawn,
within walls of silent corridors,
I waited in the quiet hum of morning,
as the day unfolded, woven with purpose.
...
He, lover of the water, of wind, of motion and craft,
holding his life in open hands, bound to none.
...
within walls of silent corridors,
I waited in the quiet hum of morning,
as the day unfolded, woven with purpose.
...
He, lover of the water, of wind, of motion and craft,
holding his life in open hands, bound to none.
...
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