A perfect storm comes to greet me
With its arms outstretched wider than I can see.
I meet it gladly as I stare a-bow,
I need not look away as it envelopes me.

I am ready now.

I am happy and at ease with my weathered sail,
And all my efforts have braced me for this coming gale.

Be it by Orion's sword or Poseidon's breath,
Be it by my own frailty or faculty,
I am doomed to perish.
Death cares little for my time,
He will come when he does wish.

Why not meet him with this dervish?