The yellowed pages whisper of the past,
Of those who made their names, crossed swords with fate,
And earned themselves the title of the Great,
Who did not break faith when the die was cast.
But did they feel, as they were hurtling fast
Toward destiny, they bore too vast a weight
Or that their path was treacherous, never straight,
And yet, they’d find deliverance at last?
The ship we sail on seas of pregnant ink
And under skies with gods and heroes none
Does what it can to brave the waves, not sink
Before it reaches lands unknown, unwon.
We forge the chain of history link by link
To pull ourselves into the unseen sun.