Through the raging sea she came,
Hungry eyes and foaming mane,
Sparkling beast in lightning rain,
To reach the voice that called her name,
To meet the one that played her game.
In the roaring wind he called,
Thundering from higher ground,
Sundering the world with sound,
To bring the beast that legend told,
Would come and make his dream unfold.
Over rolling waves and fleeting tide,
Heralded by her callers plead,
Arrival of the stygian steed,
Grazing cliff with gruesome hide,
Shrieking as she rises high,
Monstrous towards the sky,
To halt before her kneeling guide,
Where sea and battered rocks collide.
A waning moon enchants the scene,
Its pale light paints a vivid dream,
Man and beast in silent sermon,
Waiting for their bond to form,
Within the eye of the surrounding storm.
Finally, as if in reply,
A gust of wind comes brushing by,
And the fleeting moments in the eye,
That felt like aeons for a while,
Are lost into the stormy wild,
That ravages both earth and sky,
Engulfing the embarking ride,
A summoned demon in its pride,
With summoner installed up high,
On a throne of horns and scales,
As king and ruler over seas and gales.
Through a rising ominous wave,
Then down into the watery grave,
Descends the master and his slave,
Past jagged rocks and horned reefs,
Whose ancient carvings form reliefs,
That brings to life the lost motifs,
Of things that never roamed the sea,
And never knew that they would be,
Fading into obscurity,
Beneath rolling waves and stormy skies,
With none to see their crumbling guise,
Save the one that past them dives,
Guided by the withered sights,
Of godly kings and perfect knights,
That in the eerie dying light.
Assume the shape of ghastly wights.
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