Wrecked

The ship slowly fades into view

Sputtering flames protrude outward

The typical death of an era

Only one man can be heard.

 

The tattered remains of his clothes

Are buffered in the flitting winds

He cries out in the name of God

Cursing, confessing his sins.

 

If God does in fact hear him

He hasn’t dared speak out

The dark ocean rolls onward

Enveloping any hope hanging about.

 

The man loses volume and will

Collapsing in the natural fashion

Of one sorely alone in his world

Splayed out, dreaming of passion.

 

He hears his wife whispering

From another far-off dream

As the ship sinks down below

Smoldering from every beam.

 

The harsh graying skies awaken him

His skin is a chapped, dry drum

The days and eons blend together

As the deep resounds its endless thrum.

 

Fiery visions are given forth

Echoing through memory and fate

The inevitable is fought off again

Fighting not to be pronounced late.

 

The thirst and stomached pains

Burst forth and convince him

He cries out now to his son

“I’m so sorry, my dear Jim!”

 

Taking the deepest of breaths

He throws his eyes up above

And casts himself out and aloft

Sinking into infinity, thinking of love.