Death of a Sailor

Crashing, colliding waves surround-
a hint of bluish-gray and slate;
screaming, bellowing, interrupting the howl of the wind,
snapping at my face
as rain beats upon the ground.
The rain's rhythmic beat:
tap,
tap,
tap,
some cruel play of fate
as it freezes over; the birth of sleet.
Yet there is some unknown beauty and grace
to this tempest-
the sea's rage, the ocean's hate
wrecking ships, fleet upon fleet,
yet somehow peaceful...
Looking into the dark waters,
waves crashing against the boat,
wondering how I'm still afloat,
and not dead.
Listening to the crashing of thunder,
feeling the way of the storm...
cold,
so cold...
Is it worth drowning
in it's water,
in it's hate,
in it's beauty?
This storm, this tempest
that has befallen me,
bringing death so near,
worth my life?
I think it so...
The last thing I hear:
the muffled thunder above,
the wind clashing against the sea,
and the last thing I see
is the dark, crushing water beneath me...