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Sheathed in iron sleeve

Sheltered from the salt and sea

Bent to fateful oars

Broken at the spine

Sundered by the singing shrine

Shelter is no more

Strong wind ‘neath the waves

Monolith upon the plain

Anno Rex Æquor

Here—

On this darkest horizon

Below the mortal sun

The water’s heart beats

Out—

Mine, the cold and ancient way

Where sunlight ne’er is shed

Where terrene gods are held at bay,

Where reign the driftwood dead.

Bend to fateful oars

Shelter is no more

Anno Rex Æquor