Through the eerie mist
You can see Him from afar
Gliding slowly through the river
To the gates of Purgatory
Where you are

The Ferryman has cometh
You have summoned Him with your call
All the souls of mortality
Who are waiting at His door
Your journey?
To cross the River Styx
The price?
One Golden Coin
Nothing More

He comes to you with horror
Hidden beneath His damask cloak
And extends His wretched hand to you
Before you enter the boat

The golden coin is the fare
That He is searching for
Your eternal passageway
To the Underworld below
Place it in His hand of death
Then swiftly come aboard

The Gatekeeper has one goal to attain
And nothing else to implore
But to reach the Isle of the Dead
And leave you on its shore

If you could live to tell the tale
Of the isle plagued with death
Then you would speak of fates that await you
Reliving nightmares you once dread

The Ferryman cannot sympathize
For He has no soul Himself
Just a black pit of emptiness
In a shroud of tapered cloth

For a mortal to reach the Underworld
Charon is His name
Sound the horn only once
And You will never be the same

By Lisa Caraglio

This poem is dedicated to all the Gods and Goddesses of Mythology, without them this poem could not be possible.