Lost At Sea
I would sum it up best, If by some unrest, I declare upon the soul whose door, Would wash its brazen key ashore, That it was meant to be lost at sea. I would often confess, But with the faintest of jests, Toward a sullen man so bare, Whose skin by fear shone fair, That it was simply not meant to be. And his tears would float adrift, Upon the waves, quite often swift, To flee from mind of fool afoot, In sand that sunk what faith he put, Toward eager life of wealth and glee. So be it God, so come what may, Of anchors hung from necks aflayed, So shall I drown into the deep, Of sweet and dark and silent sleep, At last the sea has come for me.