Depression
in an ocean of contemplation
something dimly lights the shore
an image of rock and wave
not enough to show the way
and still the final decision is made
as if from heaven it was born
and brought down by a seraphim
moving deftly through the maelstrom
its six wings beating against the storm
but that's no angel riding torment
to help a weary traveler
who has no obvious options to explore
no heavenly message delivered
that's a demon in a saintly form
the charade however clever
doesn't change the will of soaked and tired bones
that will soon be crashing against worn and beaten stones
and there shall be no reminder for they will be swallowed by the foam
and Neptune he is smiling it's a death that he adores