Here we are
and here we’ll stay,
some born on the sandbar
and some from far away.
Once we strayed,
lost inside our heads,
too afraid to have ever prayed
to a ghost beside our beds.
But we’ll sing our sorrows to sleep,
drifting to drown in the endless deep.
A braid of silver ‘round our wrists,
a solemn promise that still persists.
For a Maiden’s work is never through
and death is but a rendezvous.
So we will sink into the deep
side-by-side and hand-in-hand.
An eternal vigil we will keep
as our bones sleep in the sand.
We found our place and calling
far below white-capped waves,
an age so beyond recalling
there’s no name for the graves.
We sing in conviction to sleep,
yearning to drown in the soulful deep.
A thread of hope around our wrists,
a fearful promise that still persists.
For a Maiden’s work is ever true
and death is but our rendezvous.