In the Folded Cliffs of Crackington Haven

Lived a Shadowed Cloak of Mythical Raven,

Cleft in Sandstones timeless Shale

Caressed within its Misty Veil.

 

Seas beneath would Swirl and Thrash

and on that Craggy Headland Dash,

Any Souls who Ventured Near

Through Ignorance or Absent Fear.

 

The Walkers, they would Come and Go

Unknowing of the Lives Below,

Like Sailor Merchants they would Pass

On Waves of Breezy Coastal Grass.

 

The Wings would Squat and Glower Long

At those who came though not Belong,

And with a Yellow Beady Eye

Cast down their Curse from Hidden Sky.

 

Of all who Passed Upon The Wave

Not one was by their Chose God Saved,

And even those who Sailed on By

Would in their Calm Port Someday Die.

 

The Lesson maybe we could Heed

Things Unseen Upon Us Feed,

And though we feel we Travel Free

The End’s the same for You and Me.