OCEAN VOYAGERS | TAKIS PIERRAKOS

We do not set our eyes on blue granites
Nor upon fleeting contours of the land.
We do not feel warmed
By the flickers of the lighthouses
Neither our back is caressed
By a friendly hand,
The concern of our own people.
The port of departure
Became a faded poster inside us.
How shall we visualize the new ?
The flying company of albatross
Ceased marking the air with protective circles.
He found himself trapped
In the unwise reasoning of the present times.
Who is going now to cross swords with the wind
That sweeps our voices away
Towards the edges of the planet
Turning them into stammers?

By Takis Pierrakos