EPISODE · Feb 2, 2026 · 5 MIN
Headwind
from Brangassivo's Feed · host Mathias Schneider
Some lyrics of mine Song Headwind The glass is falling, the sky turns pitch black. The sea grinds itself raw, the spray scales the heights. Life demands its due. The silence of empty eyes is barely audible, yet it shapes destiny in manifold ways. We stand there, tasting the salt on our lips. It burns in our eyes. A thousand gusts lash through us. The hawsers sing in the gale, the wind whips the sails. The song of their burden pierces deep within us; the ship rears up. The masts tremble and shake. In the depths, the wood splinters. Trust fades, while our keel defies the breakers. It is the headwind that teaches us the truth here. Its resistance leads our strength toward the light. We sail close-hauled. The sails stand stiff with power; it is an ordeal. We gain speed through the headwind. We cross paths with fate. Meter by meter, we fight for our foothold. The billows wash us about, the rudder steers us hard. A cry of despair, the boat groans under its load. In the unison of the roar, our courage fades. What flows through my veins is lust. The sea, its mirror and its glow, they rise up. Like driftwood we drift, pulled blindly by the current, in the fire of the rain; from the hurricane, no one can flee. Let the spray rise, let the swell grow heavy. No praise, no cheers, only the labor and the song drive us on. On swaying planks we have stood. Constancy is what we sought. The North Star is nowhere to be found, the darkness hides the day so profoundly. Oh, good light, he who does not know the burden of heaviness feels no freedom from it. The bulwark of love, our longing, a rock in the flood.
What this episode covers
Some lyrics of mine Song Headwind The glass is falling, the sky turns pitch black. The sea grinds itself raw, the spray scales the heights. Life demands its due. The silence of empty eyes is barely audible, yet it shapes destiny in manifold ways. We stand there, tasting the salt on our lips. It burns in our eyes. A thousand gusts lash through us. The hawsers sing in the gale, the wind whips the sails. The song of their burden pierces deep within us; the ship rears up. The masts tremble and shake. In the depths, the wood splinters. Trust fades, while our keel defies the breakers. It is the headwind that teaches us the truth here. Its resistance leads our strength toward the light. We sail close-hauled. The sails stand stiff with power; it is an ordeal. We gain speed through the headwind. We cross paths with fate. Meter by meter, we fight for our foothold. The billows wash us about, the rudder steers us hard. A cry of despair, the boat groans under its load. In the unison of the roar, our courage fades. What flows through my veins is lust. The sea, its mirror and its glow, they rise up. Like driftwood we drift, pulled blindly by the current, in the fire of the rain; from the hurricane, no one can flee. Let the spray rise, let the swell grow heavy. No praise, no cheers, only the labor and the song drive us on. On swaying planks we have stood. Constancy is what we sought. The North Star is nowhere to be found, the darkness hides the day so profoundly. Oh, good light, he who does not know the burden of heaviness feels no freedom from it. The bulwark of love, our longing, a rock in the flood.
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Headwind
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