the once great captain surveyed

the remains of her crew.

ruffians, all of them, but loyal.

evening sunlight cast odd shadows

as they worked to maintain the Galya’s course

to the end of the world

six months of frustration,

the death of four crew members,

and the treason of one. the Galya rocked

to and fro, across the endless sea

as the evening sun faded, the captain stilled.

a great flash of moonlight, blanketed the vessel,

blinded all but the captain.

her crew stood dazed, but she ran towards the bow.

moonlight marked the edge, and it called to her,

beckoning her forward.

the sea fell way to the edge – to nothingness

and still it called. the captain looked back

to her crew and her ship, voiced an “I’m sorry,”

and jumped, but did not fall.

instead she floated above the ship and the sea,

and became one with the stars