Foundering in a gray and storm tossed sea
beset by foaming breakers' towering height
the spirit fails, and mortal flesh will be
soon swallowed by the all consuming night.
This lengthy trial against the angry wave,
this lonely vigil coming to an end,
accords a final reverie, to crave
succor before eternal depths descend.
Then, borne upon the frothy creaming crest
arrives a buoyant presence, to renew
a vision where salvation is caressed:
one brief embrace, then cast adrift anew.
The drowning man clings to each fantasy
or bit of flotsam, slim though it may be.