Dead Atlantic

Pry the lids once more
Harden the souls shell again
Another day away from shore
This ship, a cradle for weary men.

Sails are sillhouettes
A castle on the depths
My path ahead lay bereft
To this vessel I vow my dying breath

The hands on deck, a plethora of crass
A love for the sea in their hearts lie
Calloused hands and a heart of glass
Those of fragile flesh need not apply

Clouds billow in skies above
The tide and bow become one
Natures malevolent labor of love
All hands swept and undone

Alone at last, one with the Atlantic
Weaker men would writhe with panic
I seek solace in scowling, salty air
The depths, my crafts rightful heir

Downward I retire for eternal sleep
The sea she claims her desired prize
A casket of blue, lain to the deep
Lulled away, by a serenade of capsize.