“The land knows you, even when you are lost.”

The watery waves, though you are tempest tossed.

And see not lighthouse, but rocky shores,

Or sun-baked fields and gorse-filled moors.

They’ll both draw you down, deep down to their keep,

To cover you over. To smother your sleep,

That your slumber be only the memory you keep.

Yes, they know when you’re lost; devour death’s sting—

 

And you thought you were the food chain king?