Lying here in this life’s final berth,
No longer escaping to the sea.
If the greatest lie of all is not birth,
Death is life’s great treachery.
I think back to the times I spent
Sifting through the briny deep,
Deeply inhaling the saliferous scent,
Pleasure enough to make one weep.
The grave awaits me, I now admit,
As mortality is seeping through.
For if eternity is not a infinite pit,
I hope it ends in the quenching blue.