Deep under the sandy seabed
Lay a place of myth.
Forged from the fearful tales
Of creatures from seas above.
 
Dark it was, and cold.
Filled with cells of old.
Contained with fragile bars of mould,
There lay the place of myth.
 
A place made in the darkness
The pitch-black of midnight.
Where seaweed looks like tentacles,
Barely any sort of light.
 
Here lay the place of myth
Its flesh occupants long gone,
Which made space for their lonely spirits
To sing their wistful song.
 
They once knew the ocean,
The light, the sun.
Knew friends from far away places,
And friends from close ones.
 
Now here they lie
Never to see daylight,
Between the barnacles
And broken shells.
 
Hope you don’t end up like them.
Avoid loneliness’ fatal kiss.
Hope and pray you don’t end up
In the place of myth.