The Oceans and the Black Swan

Commands are given,  
the crew stir with haste.  
Reef the mainsail  
and cast down the oars.  
This storm shows us no mercy,  
respond in kind  
or be taken.  
The few beside me,  
all seek the same.  
His goods and wealth,  
cast aside forever.  
Once a man makes his choice,  
he make no other.  
Until he finds his attonement,  
may he be free again.  
   
To what end would a man agree,  
but the endeavor    
of forgiveness?  
These only the Swan may give,  
can be found in the oceans.  
Whether it be the depths  
of sub zero trenches.  
Or the next harbour one arrives,  
it matters little..  
Survival isn't the aim,  
nor is death.  
There's a medium we aspire to  
a goal purposely set  
to be the end.  
It isn't death that sways  
or life that phases.  
   
When a man true to his word,  
and diehard of his oath.  
Finally feel forgiven  
from within his soul.  
He may depart the vessel,  
and set sure foot on land.  
That day never comes for many    
but those few who find that day  
have aged to the tone  
of their misery.  
Death comes for him.  
He always comes..  
   
Those he claims aboard,  
the diehard and strong,  
welcome him with open arms.  
He has no choice now,  
death be his fate.  
But he dies a free man.  
Free of the torment,  
his fellow men breathing,    
still endure.  
As the Black swan,  
sails on.