Philosophical

The waves kept lapping, forever shifting 
Moving us closer to that angry port, 
Cannot go home again empty-handed 
So we kept sailing to that distant shore. 
 
This is our name, what we again must do 
Rough winds directed us ahead on course, 
Far bells sang sadly, shrouds quickly unfurled 
Metal storms erupted from that distant shore. 
 
We mistook their quaint silent charity 
To not deter our dark savage halos, 
As splinters danced amid wet scarlet mists 
Ever closer to that near-distant shore. 
 
The waves are lapping, my heart keeps bleeding 
Mourning the souls who sank like castaway stone, 
Never home again under any sky, 
Drifting my way to that eternal shore.

The shoreline