Thoughts On A Sinking Ship

In the moonlit night of dreams, on the maiden voyage of supreme grandeur, destiny weaves in the arctic waters a tragic tale. As I stand on the sinking Titanic deck, and hear the symphony of despair, the swansong melody swirling in the ominous air, fills my sinking heart while I wait with taut strings of senses stretched to be snapped, for the ultimate embrace of the ocean. Beneath the icy indigo waves of the drowning sadness, I feel the load of lone despondency sink with my essence, and hear the distant bell of doomed destiny toll faintly for me in sync with congealed rhythm of my last sigh. The spray of anguish rises above the swelling waves from the maelstrom of marine providence, floats formless within the mind’s frosted visage, tries to make drops of tear to flow from forlorn eyes, like the rolling rills of rain on the face of fated foliage. Flushed by the deluge of the imminent calamity, all the cascades of thought aren’t yet lost in disarray, for in lone clumps clinging till the end to the edifice of undying hope they lie frozen as the splinters of memory in emotion deep, wait to silently wail for the promises I couldn’t keep. But looking back I see the snapshots of contentment, resplendent in the benevolent glow of God’s grace, lighting now the last journey to the precinct of eternal bliss. The wrecked ship is set to sink with my shattered heart, from the unfathomable depth I won’t be able to rise. The ordained time has come, creeping eerily in my veins, for me to depart and say the final adieu, enwrapped with the cloud of memory, shedding the last drop of concealed tears for you.