She peers upon a vast expanse of crystalline spires.
Bathed in crimson light, the colossi rise into the depths of the abyssal sky's.
Myopic eyes strain to see a distant shore; a temporal sea.
Yon Ferryman waits by the port, the cadence of the waves implore, whispers her to distant shores.
At once the boat begins to creep. Below cunning monsters feign a restless sleep. Cogent and without remorse, they strike upon the wooden form now gliding on an unknown course.
The Ferryman fights the helm with all his might, to free her from the ancient rights too dangerous for thought or sight. Defeated and outwitted, beast slips back into the deep, to guard against the lesser beings.
They persevere on through the night as placid waters reflect the light of multitudes of pin-point stars echoing through the channels of time.
One billion latent worlds unknown, yet to burgeon forth will soon bemoan the silence of her unsure fate atop the waves, and evanesce upon the rays of Sol's new day.
A fire's lit upon the sky as streams of liquid gold scream by and fall upon the cresting waves to guide the boat along its way.
"We're nearing land, a bird flies nigh" cries Ferryman from mast so high, as Sol begins to arc through sky from West to East in backward time.
Now before them mountains rise, a hope across the voids of time. Silver trees and golden shores, crystals brace the wide fjords where the Ferryman arrives at port.
At journey's end she turns her head to peer back into distant pasts where crimson spires scraped the sky and blackest nights gave lullaby's.
The Ferryman turns and waves, then whispers "Do not question your own fate, the epoch of your fleeting life was rendered useless by the night now lost inside of cyclic time."
"For I am the Ferryman, paragon of pelagic might!"