The mists of Avalon shroud the shore
The Greek’s thousand ships, flirt with the dangerous reef
In the darkened haze, Sirens beckon desperately
No torch or ray of sun penetrates the dark
It is as if all light has been swallowed
Those aboard the ships curse the Fates
Beg and plead for their gods to guide the sails
All their faith rests in the helmsman
Oh how cruel this journey has been
An endless evolution of peril and dismay
Where once dwelled hope and luck, now only fear
No sacrifice of goat blood seems enough
Whether the crows nest is manned, not a matter
There is naught to see, but black and mist
The oarsmen watch the sea lick at their feet
It is a miracle they escaped the Kraken
Their souls spared by a wandering Leviathan

The defeated Greeks know not where they are
North star has not been seen in a week
Their stomachs growl in discourse,
Being filled only with stow-away rats
The sextant has lied about their direction
The fleet of galleys is leagues off course
Heading slowly towards an unpleasant demise
As hope vanishes, the mists begin to lift
The blackness turns to a muted gray
A stench of seaweed and decaying fish wafts on the heavy air
Torturing the sailors with queasy stomachs
There is a rising temptation to believe they are saved
A mermaid races alongside the port rail
Every soldier’s eye follows her
For a moment, their torture is forgotten

A crease in the dawn appears
A single ray of light, perhaps from the sun
Heavily filtered by threatening clouds and a heavy mist
Dew glistens off all things doffed
Tendrils of morning chill delicately work the spine of the warriors
Wiping the memory of burning hearths from their minds
On every ship, the time fiend feasts
Devouring precious days better spent anywhere else
Not all those who survived the battle, still sail
A few have let go of all sanity
Some take their chances facing the sea
Poseidon does not hesitate to accept their sacrifice

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