I seek a haven from the storm, <br />A refuge that defies the thund’ring skies <br />And shelters me safe and warm <br /> <br />I fly before a fearsome gale, <br />A chill wind that blows until noone knows <br />In what direction I sail <br /> <br />I’m tossed about like a wooden chip, <br />My yardarms moan, my canvases groan <br />And I teeter on an abyss lip.... <br /> <br />About me the everlasting thunder rolls, <br />Lightning plies the darkened skies <br />And the winds shriek like Hell-damned souls... <br /> <br />Alas! My steering ropes break! <br />The wheel spins free as I plow through the sea, <br />Leaving a twisting, sinuous wake. <br /> <br />I’m drawn into a vortex, a Stygian pit <br />Where neither brawn nor brain can ease my pain <br />And the darkness seems utterly infinite... <br /> <br />The strain is hideously appalling! <br />My timbers crack, the sails go slack <br />And still I go on, forever falling.. <br /> <br />I’m being torn asunder, my death is near <br />I meet my end without a friend, <br />But also without fear.<br /><br />Karl Stuart Kline<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/3-21-storm-s-end/
