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.
