Poseidon Isthmios, line in the sand
who keeps the tide from subsuming the land.
He whose granules, lightly tossed,
define new patterns, the old ones lost.
Korinthos-named and sacred kept,
shaper of currents and drifts unswept.
For him the ancient games were held
in peace, the might of athletes swelled.
Isthmios, merger of land to land,
reshaping the world at his command.
At Bering he lured mortals on
to lands no people had tread upon.
By Panama he closed the way
for ocean’s flow throughout the day.
In his eye a subtle gleam
as steady blew the young Gulf-stream.
As humans strong strive to emulate
the hands of gods to mold their fate,
our eager minds cannot quite share
Isthmios’ vision, beyond compare.