Friday, February 28, 2014

The Flying Dutchman

By: Gus Victoria

Bloodstained deck ever slick,
With vengeance and regret thick,
No man walks steady,
No spirit unweighted,
The Captain in his cabin hides,
From the wraiths and shades that cry,
Hold full of treasure,
Soul empty by every measure.
The crew waits,
Married to the sea,
She is their mistress.

For those on shore
She dances at the edge of recollection,
Her mast in the wind strong, sails full,
Cutting through the endless expanse,
Now shattered on the reef she waits,
A ghost carrying ghosts,
To rise once more,
To sail anew.

There is no refuge,
There is no safe harbor,
On moonless nights she rises,
Across an ink-black sea she sails,
A desperate search for salvation
Not in forgiveness found,
A bleak harvest raised
In blood to drown for a night,
The angry calls of the dead,
That raise a chill fright,
Striking the stoutest heart with dread, 
The calls that the Captain knows well,
Harbingers of his eternal Hell.

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