Tristan and Isolde: Tristan's arrival cruise

A vessel sailed by the river, suspended aloof in the watery realm,
headed to the nearly shore, expected by the unwary minds
but no one could see or hear the vessel that journeyed in silence.
From the shadows their returned, back home they returned
to only be cast away once again; the passengers traveled
cruising over the shapeless water, settled without violence.

Steering in contrived silence, the pilot faced all passengers
who are in uneasy calm and control, like he only have seen
when lambs are enclosed with a dire wolf inside fully disguised.
“Ah, a predator travels in my boat, and the maniacs do not lie,
they contact in the water whirlwinds the wisdom we can not,
that lies deeper in our souls, who is here a stranger and not a fool.”

He inspected the many faces, but their gazes he could not meet
“Aye, it is dangerous”; he said and turned his face to the weed
covering the margins. “Worst than waking in the night and
meeting with a mirror with your sleepy reflex there printed.”
He prayed for the Lord Jesus and silent he vowed: For the last time
would he, accept such crew, or else his soul would soon began to shred.

The vessel finally arrived at his recurring final harbor,
the passengers are loaded, and the boat once again turned,
for, even with the vow still remembered, the pilot truly knew,
it was a rigid chain, entangling his very soul to his errand,
and no desire or holy vow could release his mortal self,
the only door that rested was bleak as his many years.

One passenger did not staggered in the dry land, by many surrounded;
insanity has not his mind conquered, but his heart have long possessed;
his hood he lifted, covering his bald skull, parting from the shoreline,
vagrant eyes followed him beyond sight, bounded by concealed ties,
towards the Castle he roamed, veiled by lunacy, slowly approached;
guided by her face’s visage, Tristan arrived, enclosing his final destine.