Mysterious Poem

The grey shores of Cleo shines
in the moonlight of the winters night,
The wind in wolfen hollow cries
howl and rage and fight.
The ship, the Cez sail on
upon the Jaboradian sea,
from the battle of the Rau de Ron,
the victor and the free
My Coriander and Tamarind, the soup of the west
is steaming in my hand,
as I write my pen on paper rest,
as I see the distant land.