my silence, perhaps, may be misconstrued
in the archipelago will be the subject of this story
this part of the globe changed into a collection of isles,
a history carried by winds, tides and currents
masters of vessels, seeking
in the beginning there was nothing but sky and water,
until a black cloud, low near horizon
saw something white like a sail
lost in the void, entered by storm
with no knowledge of the kingdom
counter-poison fibers of a plant into handkerchief
its cities sacked and pillaged
the uprising and its fervent devotion
may live to repent their fatal success
there is more than we can estimate
in which one must seek nothing, other than the assembly