The storm

At the edge a towering cliff stands a man,
Looking out on a turbulent storm,

A lone vessel braves the swells,
A speck in a brazen sea.

Dips and rises crashes down splintering stern and spirit,

A weathered captain holds the bridge with hands numb and cold,

2000 yards to safety's warmth,
barred by surf and treacherous tides

Too late now to turn away,
doomed she solos through,

The lone man stands upon the cliff with no might or means to assist.

Ruptious thunder rings out in gleeful ridicule.

His Dark clouds envelope and suffocate
The ship once sturdy and strong

Lost to the world of men and truth,
Lost to the confines of song.