The Wreckage
One that would prefer he never existed at all
Only to live in phases to which he is oblivious. That is, until his last.
How many succeeded and how many fell, we’ll never truly know.
And does one not lose themselves in the process regardless of the outcome?
It is the Lion’s path they chose while the sheep never entered for fear of being ripped away.
Yet here we stand, speaking over the emptiness of another
That can no longer speak for themselves
While we outlive them comfortably in the company of regret.
Applaud their bravery and boldness
For not becoming subjects to fear, but fighting for a life of reward
For proving true all we’ve come to fear,
Engaging the sea -- to live when real lives escape most.
We don’t know what their final breaths were like, and we dare not trace their final steps.
For we exist as mere spectators in the lives of those that refuse to simply breathe.
We must acknowledge that a watery grave however not preferable, is as fine a one as any.
So let there be no doubt, on this, the umpteenth occasion,
That the sea swallows whole all those mistaken,
Breaking hearts,
Taking lives,
and Everything inside.
Alas, it is their legend that elevates and outlives them, so tell it how you must.