I sailed by her starry eyes,
ever-mindful of her fragile prize.
Elders whispered of Lost Things,
and called me a Foolish Man.
They sat in their mud holes,
Green rot, withered Souls,
“You cannot understand!”
I yelled at them.
So, I stole the Night and Ship,
I peeled away their fetid grip,
and fled into Familiar Unknown,
with the Misted Idiot’s Grin.
© CGT, 2018.