The waves churn,

No longer a clear blue,

No longer a rich green.

They are black,

Great black monsters,

White foam drips from rabid jaws.

They swallow you,

Eating you alive.

Those great black monsters.

They crush boats and drown sailors,

Those poor young sailors,

Dead at sea.

“Maybe they’re not dead,” you are told.

“They might be alive.”

But you know.

You know you won’t see them again.

As sure as the sun rises in the East.

You know they were eaten,

Eaten alive by those great black rabid monsters.