The happiness is only found
In the empty, barren sound:
Which envelops all around.
Within this page, soul`s bound.
There is a joy in hopelessness,
A strange and empty bliss.
The ship that sailed this empty sea,
Was found shipwrecked, unexpectedly.
Thunder and lighting, a foreshadow
Of an incoming destructive shadow.
This was followed by an onslaught icy rain,
The chill numbed the surviving man`s brain.
He was headed initially for new land
When the bold captain assumed command.
When storm appeared, the vessel was already lost;
And the sedition and starvation had taken its cost.
Now, the incoming deadly squall;
Ominous, sent by a demonic thrall.
The hull was sturdy, sound,
As the storm began to surround.
The decrepit remaining crew; were salty and true;
And yet, still found to be fearful as the storm grew.
The waves, of deep blue, began to swell,
Within the eye of storm, a glance of hell.
The brazen captain rallied the men, to “hold the line”;
His voice compressed, by taste of the savage brine.
The pressure from each proceeding wave,
One by one, took the crew to their grave.
Black was illuminated completely clear and bright;
By howling, resounding cracks, and flashes of golden light.
Of all on-board that painfully now remained:
Captain and first mate, on wooden the frame.
The once fine, limber, timber;
Creaked as it began to splinter.
Chilling rain coalesced with frozen hail,
While splashing surges rent ship frail.
Broken planks of crafted wood
Abandoned the ship for good.
The plumb set mast
Was horizontally cast.
Poseidon was still deciding
Fate of two still surviving.
Zeus sent a blast of light and thunder,
That wrought the wreck asunder.
To the liquid, the craft began to sink under;
Slowly, to conjoin with the lockers plunder.
Two souls were tossed in the torrent,
Of the abysmal, unrelenting, raging current.
Cerberus was foaming at the mouth.
Waves foaming tossed the men about.
The men held each other’s hand,
Devoid of hope, they`d reach land.
In their demise, they cried and screamed aloud
Calling out to God, tempest-humbled, not proud.
The ocean provided no quarter,
The captains’ breath, it would slaughter.
The solitary first mate was left, as the storm died;
And reaching land, he felt ecstatic to have survived.
Composed By: Andrew Drucker
