A monster of suction, settled in the depths of briny green
She launches her limbs to the remains of that thick wooden plank
Creating a storm of dancing sand
the rusting candlestick rolls her way
like a goblet of wine, she fills it with an inky cloud
Dining on herself, the octopus drinks her fill
And closing her bulging eyes, she recalls the men that sank in this deep   

Men destined for discovery of great far off lands
Who wanted only to light a candlestick and explore the unexplored
Who let themselves tumble down into this deep, where light cannot   lead the way