A flash of green the setting sun beget The unforgiving waters sings a lullaby to their fiery king Atop it's menacing waves, stands she—tamer of seas—The Witching Dauntless She, who was said, first to sail untracked waters She, who stood in a locked contest with the goddess—Calypso It was said— Seven days and seven nights, she battled the roiling tempest, With Grandeur, she stepped out—vanquished not, Losing not one soul to Davy Jones' locker As the moon creeps upon the skies, so she sets her gaze upon me, She sees me far off, on the beach, standing in awe as the waters draw at my feet—inviting me. I hear her voice, Soft like the wind, navigating through crowds of lilies yet threatening like crackles of lightning on stormy nights. With sweet words of adventure, she persuades me, Drawing closer to me, and I, to her. She invites me, offering her wheel for my taking, With the wind against her mast, she goes on and on about the pleasures of the sea. The witch—my muse, and I—her captain, I give it no thought— For stories of pillage, gold, rum and pleasures accompanied me to slumber since I was 6, To have a taste of this feast, I will give my soul, my body, my all! I will follow—even to the depths of the seas, she who rules the storms. The Witching Dauntless.