Even ships that are long overdue pull into port eventually.
When time and meaning have faded away to endlessness,
The ragged sailors come on through.
Poseidon's crushing waves could only hold them for so many eons.

Their long lost eyes search for homes that aren't there.
Time is lost to them.
Their ships hit sandy bottoms that once were long below.
Where are the trumpets home?

Where is Athena's open arms?
They're still the boys who left their homes.
The world is so much bigger now,
And tiny like a ball.

Slowly the world catches back to them:
Nothing remains from old and everything
Is always still the same.
Who will greet the dead?