5.03.2003 :::
 
When you were the Santorin, you were once
Worshipped as a fire king south of Naxos,
Shaped by sirocco heat far above,
Surfacing the Sea of Crete, your feet.

Long gone. Hallow the cone.
Volcano down to the stones.

I was born to sail the Cyclades, marble islands.
Starlight sang like an Aegean breeze.
I was drawn by the myth of your monolith
Like the perfect face is drawn by the scar
And was caught in the pore from a blast at the core,
Like a super-heated samovar. That's all you are.

Long gone. Hollow the cone.
Volcano down to the stones.
It's shadow stealing the sun.
Long live the tears, see how they run.

So long as the memory burns,
You should know I'll never return.
You shadowed places to run
For so many years, stealing the sun,
Bring back the sun.

::: posted by Peter at 15:03