Inspired by Alfred Lord Tennyson’s “Crossing the Bar”
Sunset and the evening star, Sunset and the evening star. The clearest of them calling out for me. And so may there be no moaning of the bar. When I drop everything, and put out to sea… woe is me, woe is me, woe is me. But such a tide as moving seems to sleep. Too full for sound and foam to creep when that which drew from out the boundless deep… all of the darkest secrets to keep. And what’s this now? Twilight and the evening bell. “All’s not well”. When I embark, enter the sadness of farewell. “All’s not well”. Hark! After the dark, too dim to see the great white shark… it’s too dark. But such a tide as moving seems to sleep. Too full for sound and foam to creep when that which drew from the boundless deep… all the darkest secrets keep. Up from the depths of below comes a demon, this foe, with all Hell in tow. And—don’t ya know—as it nears, easy to see its wake comes closer to me, no matter how much I plea, my blood shall fill this sea. Oh God, please save me? As I now float in the crimson tide, literally half the man I used to be with no more inside. From that devil fish, I could not hide. All’s not well.
