(3.21) Storm's End Poem by Karl Stuart Kline

I seek a haven from the storm,
A refuge that defies the thund’ring skies
And shelters me safe and warm

I fly before a fearsome gale,
A chill wind that blows until noone knows
In what direction I sail

I’m tossed about like a wooden chip,
My yardarms moan, my canvases groan
And I teeter on an abyss lip....

About me the everlasting thunder rolls,
Lightning plies the darkened skies
And the winds shriek like Hell-damned souls...

Alas! My steering ropes break!
The wheel spins free as I plow through the sea,
Leaving a twisting, sinuous wake.

I’m drawn into a vortex, a Stygian pit
Where neither brawn nor brain can ease my pain
And the darkness seems utterly infinite...

The strain is hideously appalling!
My timbers crack, the sails go slack
And still I go on, forever falling..

I’m being torn asunder, my death is near
I meet my end without a friend,
But also without fear.