Flying Dutchman

“Flying Dutchman enters the darksome mirror
he has taken chosen to take down
all Sail. 
wassail
Senses assailed
Saffron Veiled Night enters.
Let the real man come forward... We ask
as we're surrounded by clamouring relatives
from all Ages. Which one of these
are you? The one Affected
by poetic licence/words, and Intent.

Fingers find witchFire deeply buried. 
You're the crystal
the Dutchman is waiting for” 
                                                              (Eline van Kinsbergen, 24-04-2023)

How can I find me
When the mirror throws back a thousand faces staring?

A friend walking by,
a fellow traveller down
the wayside in dreams, 

A father, brother
of lives lost in times beyond
birth in this moment? 

The Saffron Shore was
hidden in mists I could not sail, 
flying from a future

alone on the waves. 
WitchFinger I never knew
to be safe haven...

Too vulnerable
stars to steer by high in sky
with skeleton crew. 

Frisian harbours
as a destiny of past
genes, mulled wine. 

Yet the multitude
ever showed the way into
a home by the sea:

On the horizon
you were a beacon to this
one purple crystal:

out of life my heart
became by your probing hand:
in your arms awake