On the edge of tomorrow,

When the moon was shining bright,

A boy sat by his window

And gazed into the night.

The sky was clear as crystal

And the sea she sang a song.

The calm it seemed so brittle,

But he felt something was wrong.

Although the air it hugged him,

Wrapping all in peaceful calm,

Something ominous and grim

Condensed sweat upon his palm.

Hunched low on the horizon

Was a swelling mass of black,

Consuming stars like poison;

Thunder caused the sky to crack.

Yet the lad he knew no fear,

No, the boy was thrilled by storms.

So that night he watched clouds rear

Until pestered by the morn.

That morning the boy’s father

Came afore the sun could rise,

And asked if he would gather

Nets and lend a pair of eyes.

His father was a seaman,

Simple fisherfolk were they.

Yet some did call them heathen

For unusual was their way.

The boy though was a weak one,

Always sickly and so frail.

Rarely was he blessed with fun,

In the fear his health might fail.

So, of course, the suggestion

That he lend a helping hand

had him agree without question,

let his illnesses be damned!

But, yet again, as he strode

Out upon the sandy shore,

The angry sky did forebode

Something unpleasant in store.

The boy though was adamant

-not a thing could hold him back!

No one would tell him ‘you can’t’,

Not a harsh word or a smack.

So, father and son prepared

To set sail on churning waves.

Ignorant, he was not scared

About sailing to his grave.

At first the sea was sober,

If only enough to float,

But the storms of October

Dance then grasp you by the throat.

It happened as they approached

Father’s usual fishing grounds.

A hidden shard of rock broached

The hull with a shrieking sound.

“We’re too close to the rocks, son!”

His father roared through the wind,

“but the netting is stuck on

The rocks against which we’re pinned!”

The boy he saw the problem,

All he had to do was reach

Over the ragged columns

And untwine the line from each.

He never saw it coming,

For the net he had ignored

Caught his leg and, wave incoming,

Dragged him screaming overboard.

The ocean was in turmoil,

Currents boomed and thunder clapped,

Still the netting kept its coil

Around his leg- he was trapped.

Frantically he tried to swim

Toward what might have been light,

But when in a sea so grim

All around seems dark as night.

Already he could feel it,

The pain burning in his throat.

He held his breath like vomit

As he kicked towards the boat.

But still the netting held him,

Waves thrashed him against the rocks.

His sight was becoming dim.

He was trapped in a deadlock.

One last time he kicked and clawed,

“Father help!” he tried to scream.

No one did, no man nor God,

And he slipped into a dream.

After many nights had passed,

Though that day the boy did drown,

On rocks was found the dead boy

Wearing madness as a crown.