Little ants on a leaf fighting a rippling creek, the little maelstroms spitting it's mist at shaking knees.
    The captain's last stand with his heart in his hand, watching the golden coast elude him. Yet with all his fright and all his fight he feels the sunset soothing.  
    Things will grow and things will die, they will move mountains or sit idly by. But remains the glimpse, of the coast, inside.
  Captain climbs to the leaf's curled tip, quietly going down with the ship.