Shrinking
shores and gloomy mist.
I've woken on a perilous trip.
It
seems so real, could it exist?
It
must be, no dream could be like this.
I
wish a wish I would awake.
In
linen sheets, so soft and warm.
As
solemn cold brings me to shake.
The
waters round me call my name.
I
walk the deck of ghostly ship.
A
wooden beast with fiery sails.
With
two small coins caught in my grip.
Yet
heavy-heart, with them I feel.
And
though this voyage many share.
Somber
sea swells stop thy tongue.
No
word is echoed through the air.
Nor
song of poets from their time.
But
one, I see, with greedy eyes,
and
withered skin of endless toil.
Steers
the craft against the tide.
Gaze
fixed yonder vision's end.
While
riding still these murky depths.
The
man begets a haunting smile.
What‘s
caught his eye, he’ll not proclaim.
Though
doubtful I’d believe his tale.
Now
stretch of land hath caught mine eye.
Though
fears within do stir and mount.
Growing
till all doubts have passed.
For
giant gates ‘tis where we sail.
With
boat now moored, we restless souls,
are
summoned to these gates of old.
Then he asks me for his toll.
The
boatman asks me for his toll.
