As the ocean roars, the waves hitting the boat.
Rocking back and forth, the storm is rolling in.
All gets quiet as we lay our heads in shelter and pray.
Pray that our lives are spared.

The wind ripping the sails, flying lighting into the mast.
The rain soaking all that was dry, drowning all hopes of a calm morrow.
Although not all hope is lost.
For on the horizon of an endless sea is the sun.

Poseidon is calming and maybe, just maybe, this light will bring a new dawn to this storm.
Hell is upon us passing swiftly as the winds of Aeolus save this night.
The waves are calming, the boat has taken to much water.

Off in the distance is one last wave, a wave of hope.
A wave of magnificent glory.
A wave that would signify our lasting impressions on the dark vast violent body of water called the Sea.
This wave is to be the life saving wave that will never commandeer all that is good.

Nothing could be said as the boat wades in the water.
The wave of Joy comes closer, closer, and closer still.
All is gone nothing is left but a crude mess.
And a very silent sunset.