Forever savage (edit)

Crete sits,

a smile beneath the hue,

surrounded by the water blue,

gentle ripples

from the past into the future cripples;

the golden sun remembers it all,

paints a picture so clear we forget the truthful bits.

Crete sits,

pleasantly it seems now,

It’s rocky head and wrinkled, sandy brow

in the lap of the Goddess,

her waters beneath the bodice,

serious warmth creating the paradise

so clear the past can be enjoyed in fits.

Through the tides of history,

Crete swims,

powerful limbs,

tanned, intense, rolling over and over again;

Croatian stories kick the water clear of stain,

ancient marathon swimmer who shadows

the many curves of Mediterranean misery.

Straddling Crete,

the shadow present still,

echoes of the past fill,

wrinkles, plaintive voices;

the Minotaur stands, strong and joyless,

the dark maze that lures us always back

into the savage territory of our own heartbeat.