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Cylades charter boat , Greek islands sailing
They called them the Cyclades of consolation.
Twenty eight deserted or inhabited islands, all offspring's of the sea,Small children of the Aegean.
The islands are sunbathing peacefully.
White has turned its lights on.
I understand that it was left behind after some ancient festival.
A miracle planned by a God you don't know.
The light flows out into streams.
The domes raise their peeks.
The wind is quiet over the vaults.
The windmills rest at this time.
The sea without and end, limitless.
Blue blasts fireworks in the depth of the sea.
The houses shake hands.
The wall mouth to mouth.
Man and nature in agreement.
Arches, castles, walls, dovecots, convents, churches.
Each captain, each sailor, each boatswain builds a church.
And a saint for each day to guard you from evil.
300 churches in MykonosÂ
200 in Tinos and in Naxos, And the cycladic clay becomes a vase, a jug, a water-pot, and lecythus.
I've become sea, rock, stone, wind, and a chapel
The cupola with a small stained glass crossed itself
I've become a small God.
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