She rolls upon the sigh of Orion 
Her voice Carries 
thro brume and mist 
These were days 
when the tide was high
The waters pure 
My Soul volcanic
As the scoriac valleys 
Onwards strolled
While our destiny remained
Entwined with the stars 
I said, "Gracefully she flies
Between the Goliath
Rivers of Spain
Our Salvation is Nigh
Encrusted through water
Our hope is restored."
And souls! The brave souls
Braced against the tide
Through the mid-December
(As we knew not 
the month nor day)
Harbored there, 
Beneath the air
Buried those poor souls
Between the shore and Bay
It was there 
In the city by the shore
When it was spoken 
But gave no token
In the days yond and fair 
Many years and longer still 
In the forsaken days of yore 
That those men 
Will not have died in vain
"Dust you were created 
Through sand and sin 
And shall you return
To dust again."