Two miles down In the eerie dark depths She sleeps The cold current sweeps across the barnacled rails of the bow Indifferently Down the twisted staircase And through the encrusted remains of the lower decks. The shards of a teacup swirl in a tiny whirlpool of sand While neon blue fish swim in and out of the portholed sockets of the hull Oblivious to the terror of a fateful crossing One midnight long ago. The haunting screams of the dying Forever echo far above In the idle-busy world of men But here The stillness is sublime A sacred resting The quiet peaceful watch Of eternity.