The Far Shore


Washed here by a stream
Fed by snows but now
Sullen, cloudy, stained
With blood of friend, and foe.

Not tempted to rise
Or renew the fight.
In the sun-warmed shallows
Stay forever in sleep.

No sweet oblivion for us,
The Eldest race
Darkest hours must pass
In endless memory.

Some yearn to be away
To the Grey Shores, some
Yearn to be alive
On this shore.

On the golden river-sand
Dewed with diamonds I
Could sleep till restive hope
Was forever drowned.

Like a summer hawk
Unseen in the blue I
Have claimed you from the shore
With one cold kiss salvation.

- Varda