Through the Storm

I'm sailing on an ocean wide,
into a misty morning.
If I don't make it 'fore the sun,
my town shalt soon be mourning.

         A hum of the familiar tune kept his morale up in light of the saturnine skies awaiting him. If only he could return to the land of Saturn, his old farm on that wide, country plain. Gusts rocked the rickety craft to and fro, and chilled the poor lad's heart. The storm called upon his utmost determination: a challenge to stay alive. He retorted,  leading the ship right into wicked waves and this tempest of wrath! A head-on approach could only mean death to such an inexperienced sailor, but that little folk song kept him going, right on into the nightmare...

I'm sailing through the ocean wide,
upon the rocky brine.
If the sea itself should eat me up,
then Death shalt soon be mine.

         “Captain, captain! The sea! It rises against us!”

         “Then let its forked tongue thrash! We shall find our sunrise yet, through this monster!”

         “Your words will anger Neptune, the god himself!”

         “Ha! I'd like to see what else he might throw at us!”

         Tunneling waves channeled him straight on through to the heart of the ocean. Many lucky survivors described this very moment, when man met his opponent. This moment would be the last stand, the final chance to back out. But the headstrong captain barged on, staring his certain death in the eye, fearless. The waves embraced him with vice grip; he openly received them. His crew members wasted in their cowardice, but the sea-bound captain slipped away peaceful as a babe. And in his mind, he sung that euphony, the music of home...

I'm sailing past the ocean wide,
into my long-lost home.
The sea carried me all the way,
upon soft waves of foam.

         The man found himself out of the furious storm, at rest on the peaceful, calm waves which lapped the seashore. His smile stayed, and the people found him that very same morning. And how ironic it was to be, that the song he'd kept so close to his heart turned out his very own destiny.

The sea, my lord, has kept his promise.
He returned me to the land.
But instead of breathing the air of ground,
I breathe the air of sand.

My town carries me in a box,
out on the salty rise.
They let me fall into the waters,
and gave Neptune his prize.

A sailor lost is a sailor gained
in the world below the surface.
For now in his Eternal Navy,
I serve under the god's grace...

Word Count = 449