Epitaph - Ghost Ship Octavius

Poetry in it’s gravest form\nEach verse is written free of rhyme\nNot made for a man\nWrote not from hand but nature’s tongue\nSome perversion of deity’s works\nThe crew being frozen here in time\nEach eye fixed on waves\nEach cry written in dirgeful song\nIn several hours the rains will fall\nOur bodies will slip under the ice\nWhile the fog surrounds the sun\nThe captain’s rigid in this ice\nPen still in hand\nFulfilling his epitaph\nAnd the sirens grow louder\nAt the heart of the storm\nFreezing winds become stouter\nLeaving only our forms\nIn several hours the rains will fall\nOur bodies will slip under the ice\nWith every breath the world is smaller\nForgetting what life once occupied