Come ashore my siege !

In the tone of a tune
a tempered drum beats
the swelling of the ocean grey
embraces all tall,
black monoliths
that embark on
a Viking siege.
Under the moon
tide strings pull
a salty menace
on a fruitless trail
scurvy thoughts
scurry across
the horizon -
a crab like mind
in search of self
dives within
a wave of memories
coming up from the sands
a hermit’s ear listens
to the cries of the wind
against an empty shell
that howls of the sea
of things to come.