Wrathful waves clashing against ashen slabs,
Raking masts upon the auburn heavens.
A whipped-worn sail where at which the winds stabs,
For its aged soul, friable shores beckons.
Cutthroat drums mold the flutter of its hearts,
Pillaged spirits saunter across its hull.
A long-lost country from where she departs,
For many men doth Valhalla’s bell toll.
Treasures stowed from a country once standing,
Returned once more to a hidden village.
Shall the mighty ship find final landing,
Herculean men stave life’s long pillage.
Ancient vessel finally at slumber,
Now laid to rest in an ancient hunger.
Story by Austin Emler
Illustrations by Lindsay Trombly
Design by Lindsay Trombly