When life as opening buds is sweet,
And golden hopes the fancy greet,
And Youth prepares his joys to meet,--
Alas! how hard it is to die!

When just is seized some valued prize,
And duties press, and tender ties
Forbid the soul from earth to rise,--
How awful then it is to die!

When, one by one, those ties are torn,
And friend from friend is snatched forlorn,
And man is left alone to mourn,--
Ah then, how easy 'tis to die!

When faith is firm, and conscience clear,
And words of peace the spirit cheer,
And visioned glories half appear,--
'Tis joy, 'tis triumph then to die.

When trembling limbs refuse their weight,
And films, slow gathering, dim the sight,
And clouds obscure the mental light,--
'Tis nature's precious boon to die.

"I've decided to turn this around"
Said the captain to the crew
"I realize now, that what I sought was
Immolation. It's been a week, now, and
we've been sailing ever further into oblivion."

"No one's said otherwise; however, I knew
the thoughts, 'We shall all die; these clouds are
getting darker by the moment.' I understand;
and I'm sorry. From this moment forward, there
will be a focus on the bluer hue of the sky,
The sunlight as it shines off of the wetted feathers
of the birds that have only recently taken flight."

"I'm making this an order: we shall turn back now.
There was no treasure where we set to sail, no hidden
secrets. The only thing that awaited us was death
and its keeper."

She held that note tighter than she'd held him;
it was all she had left.