Finis Coronat Opus

Westward leads forsaken path beneath the sunset’s tread, Where men of old had ventured forth, their borders large to spread; Long months they passed, exploring darkest forests, driest plains, To seek a future that would long remain. Ruins mark their fated path through wildernesses vast, And graves of many fallen men the traveler must all pass; Yet found the few survivors such a land that they had dreamed For longest decades home that it would be. Such sacrifices gallant and such spirits bold and true, Must stir the hearts of all those now whose fates would thus imbue A future where advent’rous souls may venture forth again, And plant their valiant names throughout the lands.

In the twilight’s misty evening, As the world slips into dreaming, Thoughts at liberty do tread ‘Round the paths inside my head, Stamping out the day that’s past ’Til sleep puts them to rest at last. Every word that broke a silence, Every phrase, in peace or violence, Lives anew; I see again Things I said, and how, and when. Play they on, in mocking tones, And I must all them face, alone. Thus, so cursed, I wait the morning, And the glorious sunlight dawning, When my thoughts no longer seem To harp on such, incessantly, But rather think on matters light, Of happiness, and deeds aright.

Siren song wafts o’er the sea, Carried on the salty breeze To the ears of sailors, worn With months of hardship borne. Siren song wafts o’er the sea And the bosun calls in glee To the captain at his helm, “Ho! a safe and blessed realm!” Siren song wafts o’er the sea, And captain calls the hands to lee; “Hold fast ‘gainst call from yonder shoals, Lest devils steal your souls.” Siren song wafts o’er the sea; Steady hold the crew, they heed Their captain’s order, standing fast; Pass they by the shoals’ morass.