Swarthy sea dogs,
Weather beaten and wise
Ride Poseidon's ire
While Thor terrifies the sky
Pulsing weave of silver life
Heaved in by salt crusted claws
Sirens await beneath the waves
Wind carries their nautical calls
Weary hands stow the nets
St Elmos fire lights the mast
Warring gods call ceasefire
The terror of the storm has passed
Red sky bleeds out the black of night
Exhausted journey for all aboard
Morpheus calling us to sleep
The realm of dreams our final port
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Iceland
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