On Ebony Sails

Oh what a tangled web we weave, ever haunting in devious wombs... tattered voyagers embarking to the confine, and by nightfall, swarthy leather pants whip and crack like the white flag blowing and tearing in a cold snap. On ebony sails the ravens are perched, pecking at threads that dangle from dusky cloths which follow a foreboding path among the charcoal seas, with only a pale, crescent moon to light the way. Heavy weighted winds we will travel; with no need cast anchor to rest, for even under the darkest of starless skies we will navigate through any storm. Whirlwinds of ships encircle endlessly in a carousel of waves, each riding their horses in a cynical unison, Captain yell fire, seize fire, aim... and fire again. On the ashen deck the posts are split, the ocean floor reverberating while fingers trace softly around her lips, saturated in sweat and tears... hope, and fear. In our time we've marked our authority, through scorching suns and frigid blizzards... on ebony sails we headway forever to our home beyond the sea...