He stood upon the precipice and noted the changing weather.

Those ancient rusted ships sunken in the ocean, whether,

By storm or bloody battle,

Never hear an engine rattle again.

And farther still, he searched the waters.

He spied a fisher’s boat a little farther.

The nets were torn, and the fish were free,

To swim back to their schools, all shimmering.

But closer still, he felt the sand beneath his feet.

The pulsing earth that gave life its beat,

Cracked apart, and the golden snow filtered down

Into the unknown darkness held below.