Of What’s Left Of Us

Sailing towards a crimson line

Drawn across the western horizon

An iridescent orb bears upon us

And rounds us in glorious acclaim

 

To waters placid and quiescent

Where mermaids hold still under

And sing emphatic ballads of heroes

Come and gone in our age

 

Their voices streaming across our

Tremulous nerves, a drone rising

And falling in accord with our breath

As we stand in aplomb in the face

 

Of a wondrous glow around us

Engulfing us in a joyous moment

Of accomplishment, of jubilation

Of victory, we stand arms spread

 

As we sail into the scarlet skyline

Into the realms untravelled, past the

Unseen green flash, only for the

Fortunate few, who dare to brave

 

The waters of the yellow ocean

Where for thirty days we fought

And for thirty days we died

And for thirty days we lived

 

For thirty days we stood our ground

Amidst a raging storm and rains

Amidst cannon fire and chains

Amidst the resolve of our enemies

 

To hack and slash through our bones

To split our souls asunder across the sea

To doom us to the blackened abyss

To crush us under the might of their will

 

But no! Rang a clamour across the thunder

Silencing violent nature for a moment

As all creation stood still and watched

Watched us fight in a tungsten glow

 

As we raged a tempest of our own

Clap upon clap of cannons raining

Upon their ships and their shields

Upon their tyranny, upon their pride

 

And then the sky split apart

And then the sea split apart

And then the tyrants split apart

Among a tumult, ripped apart

 

They lay a wasted wreck upon

Rocks reminiscent of times dark

And then it smiled upon us

As we sailed off to the west

 

Towards the crimson line afar

Across the brilliant golden horizon

As the iridescent orb did smile

And hum a tune alleviating

 

As we sailed into the scarlet sky

And into a halcyon night

The crew drank red wine

As the stars upon us did shine

 

And sing a chorus along with the

Voices from deep under water

As the mermaids sang us a song

And minstrels stood upon clouds

 

Weaving patterns upon distant

Flamboyant constellations with

Violin strings and a tune melodic

To turn our fatigue into a song

 

As we drift into a gentle course

Wherein shall we rest among the

Men who with valour fought

And died for what’s left of us.