13th

So, the October baby turned thirteen yesterday. Ben teased me by asking if I wanted to be Westernized of Re-Asianified...depending on which auspice I wanted to incur (eternal life or chronic bad luck?).

I just laughed. God bless Josh and Tyatora!

All right, perhaps I should have crossed Tyatora out of that.

So now, here we are. We have passed the straits of Twelve, and I do not see the harbor that always has been in my sights since birth, and now, spyglass in hand, leaning eagerly over my longboat's bow, I stare out into nought but open sea. Ah, now the haven-harbors of birth are but a whisper, everly held in sweet memory, but forgotten for hte most part, and the high, tempestuous passage to hte Second Harbor is ahead. My mind clouds when I see the storms and wild waves before me, and the doubt of old returns to haunt me, but ever must I place my spyglass to true north, and I must find the Harbor, where the streets are gold, and Amentoris Baleyn Yahweh stands great upon his Holy en-throned Hill.

But I am afraid, in more aspects than one. Afraid that the winds will blow my ship and my mind will fly off-course, or my gaze will falter and I will float aimlessly, forgetting the hope of the Harbors, or that the sturdy prow of mine will bend beneath heavy waves and pirates' cannons.

But let the tests come, and may ever the God of the Earth and Sky and Sea guide my ship, and build in my spirit continuous growth in Him and His will, that I will not bend, will not fail, and I will succeed!

I cannot fail, I cannot step back now. I must fight, I must win, I must not bend to the wind or the sky or the sea or mortal man or demon or the terror of flames and of fiends. Endo-Polmori, Vrathua Kyan!

May He steer my prow to sail and yet stand, not bending, not yielding, not weakening;
yet ever giving, ever-determined, and ever-willing to aid.
May the Lord Almighty in this year and life to make me all he desires me to be.
I pray that my ways may one day please and bring delight to Him, if mortal men may even feign to do so.

Amen

The Blessing of a Tyatoran Vessel

This is really a short poem. Hope my dear readers don't mind.

Nilozhin, forever may thy azure banners fly,
And as long as this world is, may your golden flag sail high.
Reach for much, stretch thy arms, spread thy wings,
Touch the lands where the phoenixes sing.
Go far, sail far, may Amentoris's winds blow thy course,
May the currents push thy keel in steady force.
May Al-Waldor, steward of the sea, lead thy gleaming masts,
May you sail steadily and fast!
Fly, Nilozhin, go far!

Sea Cat Song

This one's (another) post on Tyatora. The poem suddenly came to me yesterday, and I liked it. This is a popular "patriotic" song the Sea Cats like to sing. They're the ship-sailing race in Tyatora (see the first Tyatora post).

We're Sea Cats! We're Sea Cats!
Always have, and always will be!
We're Sea Cats! We're Sea cats!
Rulers of ocean, wave, and sea!

We're Sea Cats! We're Sea Cats!
Masters of water, and seashore and wave.
The Ocean was our birthplace,
The Ocean will be our grave.

We're Sea Cats! We're Sea Cats!
Cats with dorsal fins and long tails,
We're Sea Cats, We're Sea Cats,
Hunters of white-sharks, tuna, and whales.

We're Sea Cats! We're Sea Cats!
The waters we guard and we keep,
Forever preserve the seabeds,
Where our ancient forefathers sleep.

We're Sea Cats, We're Sea Cats!
Small in number, great in will,
Though war and rapine rage round us,
We survive and hold on still.

We're Sea Cats! We're Sea Cats!
Come see our caravels sailing.
We're Sea cats! We're Sea Cats!
Come hear our fiddles a-playing!

We're Sea Cats, We're Sea Cats!
Kings and sailors of the sea,
Sea cats, Great Sea Cats,
Open, merry, free.

We're Sea cats, We're Sea Cats!
Devoted to Maker on high,
Devoted to Jehovah the Mighty,
Creator of ocean, land and sky.

We're Sea Cats! We're Sea cats!
Always have and always will be!
We're Sea Cats! We're Sea Cats!
Rulers of ocean, wave, and sea!

Twelve

I turned officially twelve last Wednesday, and this is a metaphor of what I feel:

I turn my slim spyglass to the horizon. I see the notorious Teenage Years. My Ship sways slightly as it passes through that narrow strait they call the Twelfth Birthday. Alas I hit open ocean, and, consequently, a turning point in my life. I stare into the great watery yonder, and wonder where in this vast ocean of life shall I go. I tuck my spyglass into my coat pocket and return below deck. I must ask for God's guidance on where to go.