windwaker

vagabonds wait for time to fade,

then blame it on the western world:

"i know this is so much to ask,

it's just that these things happen too fast."

i'm sure your father knows this,

as he fathers

his apotheosis of,

"where do we find our own?

all i've ever known was home.

and when the wind just picks up,

i'm left in your wake."

"now, son, you've crossed the sea,

sailed beyond our history

and my stoic eyes."

for what do i owe the sun

for my son or my brother?

my sister or my mother,

who i left behind.

sail away from you;

sail away from view.

(so clean your hands of me

or decide my worth

but cut the tendon first

to prove what i will always mean to you

though i know not the name

that you chose for me

i'd like to think it was vast and radiant,

like all the waves

in your hair that i only saw

in old pictures

i never found

in attics lost to dust and fate

did he carve my face

in all his righteous deeds and worries

did he lie awake

and did he fake sleep

like a child or like a warrior?)