What happened here, what haunting spree
a dirge of wasted intimacy
So proud, so strong, of integrity
our Napoleon of an empty sea
This creed he held onto his core
his visage, soul, surely none could adore
Forsook, broke heart with impunity
left her, so sure, for sovereignty
That better yet alone he remain
than suffer falsehoods, tricks, and pain
Thus he stands, lord-captain supreme
of his skiff, alone on this charred sea
But what did he know, his plan so fouled
that none escape from lost love’s cloud
No matter storm or squall ‘pon him came
he always sought solace from her name
Out of remembrance, how could he know
that from a name a temple would grow
Or how that void left soften’d, scarred
grows larger still than those from it carved
Self mutilated hole of heart
to thrum her name, let dwell her art
Upon his deck now solemn stands
loving memory that yet commands
Him, in glory, lone lord of his sea
burdened by love, of his harem banshee
The woman he couldn’t love in life
as memory as loved as wife
Thus he stands, our proud Napoleon
harried and mocked by love forlorn
/Sebastian Lindberg 10/6-2022
WastedWords 