Vikings

On sharp black rocks the sea sloughs, Snaking new channels, sharp as its abrading sound. Its profound insidious motion cleaving hollows As the living brain shapes pathways For its new endeavours, Its exploratory fervour. I am this restless ocean of extravert desires And introverted fears, a tidal being, As the sharp, black bow cleaves the passive sands My writhing consciousness alert Extends outwards to the doubly curved horizon As pale blue from the dark gradually unfolds And the red lips of dawn shape new ideas, And back towards the shore, my cries are echoing That abrading sound, that vision of the conqueror.