Page 4
The Black Tide, page 4
I lay in my prison cell surrounded
by swirling streams of the Black Tide.
Over the centuries it slowly,
slowly began to dawn on me
That perhaps The Black Tide
need not be my enemy.
Could the Black Tide become
my Ally?
Could it become my support?
Even my Guide?
Could it lead me to where I really belong?
Can I trust it?
Where would it take me?
I rose up from my bed.
At once, I began to dismantle all the objects
in my cell, to deconstruct all that I owned.
And from those disparate fragments
I constructed a vessel
to take me home.
And I waited to be borne away.