The Storm

The storm is born arcane
In a nook far from here
To avoid her would be in vain
Rather a straight course we must steer

This world is but a slender veil
One through which we shall pass
Our eyes fixed upon the sail
Our hands braced against the mast

If you would give me your heart
In an instance you would know
That we cannot be rent apart;
How far into the depths, for you, I would go

So let the furious winds rise
And the frigid cold settle in
For we seek a more glorious prize
The storm will pass & perfect peace begin

By Pete Scopes