Belay, belay.
Send back the waves,
Untie the rocks from their creviced hides,
Iron out the burnished sea,
And swallow the mists that close the sky.

Belay, belay.
Send time instead to march on our behalf,
To lead us into mythos bays,
Tred the old dragon’s path,
Of granite hives and ancient ways.

Belay, belay.
Send the puffins from their feast,
Back to latticed roots dispersed,
Blind the regal crown,
Of purple bruising well rehearsed.

Belay, belay.
Send word of this place,
In signals tapped by morse-like rain,
Whispers spoke in kissing wind,
And the waters seething chain.

Belay, belay.
Send time her fancy,
Her giggling tune bites it’s way,
Singing that we too shall be sent,
At the closing of our day.

Belay, belay.
Just send me not from this fair sight,
Come to me last in judgments rhyme,
Let me live outside our daily best,
In this bygone dreamer’s time.