by Nick Gisburne
They call me Onan, Warning to the Wise
Enchanted by a deviant decree
Malicious threads of magic paralyse
My living body, rooted to the sea
No power can dissolve this wicked curse
No voice will dare to barter my release
Delivered to its victim with a verse
The sentence for my sins will never cease
The emperor, the man who sealed my fate
Was troubled by the incandescent mist
Emerging at the climax of a date
With etchings of his daughter, and my fist
Imprisoned as a statue in the rock
A sign to salty seamen: do not dock
