From the depths of the ocean floor
Rises a leviathan, writhing, pulsating
Moving like a liquid shadow from lore
The bulk of its size outweighed at times
By the stealth of its subtle shifting form
As it escapes from its watery confines
Cold, seeps from its almost dead heart
Beating only enough for subtle movement
As it snakes a trail, to its unearthly start
The shifting of colour upon a living canvas
The only sign of the monsters growing life
A spark that alludes to the coming madness
The unsuspecting vessel sailing upon the tide
Unwittingly becomes the first feast of a devil
As it allows its prey no place to hide
Screams, in the dead of the blackest night
Confusion and the smell of fear the sustenance
Of this unflinching force of destructive might
And is it makes its way back to the icy depths
From whence it did come
A hundred sailors do take there last long breaths
A vessel lost at sea, with nought a trace found
Of lives lost, never to be seen or convey the tale
Thus ends the story of these souls left unbound.
Copywrite Graeme Hawke 2012 all right reserved
