Flour of Familiarity

Rugged stones stand firm still, 

Consumed and confused in ruins, 

As though preaching one last message 

To the vivid memories I treasured.

Of home and Breizh. 

Once, I was 

In search of God's Kingdom. 

I sowed the seeds in unison 

With the diverging rays of Sun. 

Mother's grindstone cried 

The harvest! 

Crackled the ripened 

Into fine flour. 

Sizzling through the night,

“You have worked hard, my child, 

 Come, savour your reward!” 

And the crustiest galette was given to me. 

It was painful for my honest heart, 

For there wasn't a toil in my labour. 

All was pleasant to me. 

Along the infinite sea, 

I strayed. 

The salt of the waters 

Tasted like sarrasin. 

I knew I was home.