Quiet as the beach can be
Upon the night as it falls:
Birds flown home, and
Life sounds stilled until
The only interruption
Is the rhythmic lapping
Of the low-tide waves.

Lap, ------------- lap,
The slow drumbeat dance
Of the ocean in the mist,
Dark with the new moon,
And stars obscured in
The low-hanging fog
And chilled air crackling.

As the water caresses
The dark, hidden sand,
A new sound is heard,
Far away, yet approaching.
Lap, pat-a-pat, lap,
The drumbeat pulse
Quickens and morphs.

Now the clanking of chains
Joins the music of the dark.
The chill burns deeper,
The fog falls thicker,
The mist grows heavier,
The sound vibrates around.
Lap, pat-a-clank, lap.

Skeleton arm seems to
Hang out from the mist,
Pointing at a watcher
In the dark, in a tree,
And he hoots, and flies up,
And rids himself of the
Clinging fear that is gorging.

Lap-pat-a-clank, lap
A tinkling as of fine china
Broken into bits and
Tossed together on the deck
Plays in the music of
The oncoming death.
My pet, my lovely, death.

Is this the ship to Avalon?
Is this the one way journey?
Lap, pat-a-clank, lap,
Crunch and tinkle as the
Boat reaches the land,
And a solitary figure
Roughly disembarks.

Here is the body of he
Who was not worthy of
The island of God's Repose,
The burial he will receive
Is the burial with fog,
And the mist will be a
Witness, for the owl has flown.

Image of death taken from Is Death Reversible? Is it the right time to find out? https://www.singularityweblog.com/is-death-reversible/ Retrieve January 24, 2017, found at https://www.singularityweblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/02/Death.jpg