The caldera lies dormant
But the fires of hell still burn these Southern skies;
Prometheus devours with industrial greed
As Vulcan lays his sorrowed head to rest.

“Soot billows clouds that mar the frozen night
And as I try to set my gaze upon the stars
Grease-laden snow settles
On to my blood-slick skin….on to my skin.”

When the weary seas grow quiet and still of song
And when our hold is full to bursting, we leave
Behind us, on this acrid beach, the bones of giants lie
Like the carnage of some demonic feast…

“Full of hope, for our fortunes have been made
We set to pass beneath The Convent
As through Neptune’s Bellows we navigate,
But for our effrontery
The Sea God unveils his rage:
The rock that cleaves from the cliffs
Smashes timber and sinks us to the depths…”

The cold is absolute as terror
The water’s grip as sure as death
And as oil and salt rush into my lungs
Out is forced my final breath.

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