meic2

LORELEI You call, I sail with clipper-ship speed: the wind and I drawn by your song - soft as the gentlest zephyr [piccolo, flute, Aeolian harp] and loud as a cumulonimbus crack – resistance is futile, nor is it desired On, on towards the lurking deep where, Davy-Jone'd, the sundered bones lie scattered: my cutter slices through the skin of miles and waves, parts the surf of years and lives, ever on until the ribbed and rocky reef claims another wreck, and at last, lifeless, I fail to hear the plaintive note imbue your siren song. Sing on, my Lorelei, for a time will come upon a time and a life upon a life when I wi