Unholy Gale

The wind is pounding, incessantly, urgently...against my ship on sand. It presages, I am sure, some thing. It finds countless cracks, of ways...persuasions only gale's, can bring, to knock upon my cabin.

"Oh Captain, Captain waken!" "I have never been more!" I walk the deck alone, for all other's hid, in fear, below, the trembling situation!

Let them avoid, in anonymity...their doubt, in sleep, as though, the ship had no crew, and there were no storm, terribly battering the hull, ringing all the hardware in the masts...to point of breaking!

I walk, and there is no light, but I know that one is there...beyond our trepidation. I know that one is there, that will not fail...whatever may come!


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico

Art: foundindesert.jpg