The Atlantic Man, Proud and Free

Born where the endless waters meet the sky, A figure stands with shoulders squared to fate, His lineage written in the sea's reply— Ancient blood that will not bow to hate.

The salt has claimed his weathered hands, His eyes mirror the deep's own hue, Each scar a testament to where he stands— Between the old world and the new.

No chains can bind what Gods have made, No foreign tongue can steal his name, The Atlantic sings through every hill and field that bears his noble name.

He walks the strand where legends sleep, Each footfall echoing ancestral drums, The tide brings whispers he must keep— The sacred duty never numbs.

Proud carrier of currents' song, Free master of the foam-kissed shore, The Atlantic man, to whom belongs the freedom worth dying for.