He is foolish,
who acts quick in raging compulsion,
Mindlessly running in aimless delusion,
naked in a trance on arrogance too potent,
is he who acts,
in fear of the moment!
How far the downfall, how swift the axe,
that falls silently,
in the heat of the moment.
She does not waver or flinch,
drunk in moronic stupor,
wallowing in misty pride,
caught up in the moment.
As the weary battered barque
is tossed violently
in the storm,
the crew,
with their captain,
are tempted,
their sanity, all gone.
by sirens decked in gold
and skeletons
clothed in silver.
greedy they rush in,
to fill their pockets,
just a sliver!
Unaware of the shallows,
and jagged rocks that await them!
Only a boat is seen,
leaving in haste,
deserting the crew,
braving the storm alone.
Only one had the foresight
and was not deterred,
to grab the helm,
to warn the crew,
on the Spur of the Moment!
.......
But all the cries
have fallen on deaf ears,
and desperate pleas
were met with violent flails......
~
Only a boat is seen, leaving in haste,
deserting the crew, braving the storm alone.
~
On the Spur of the Moment,
one turns around,
to find Davy Jones welcoming,
beckoning the vessel
to its resting ground.
