The Captain of the Hubris Hybrid

With sky ships slalom sailing, above the sea and land,
The Hubris Hybrid Captain took up his final stand.

He sailed across the skyscape, as battle lingered near;
He felt his gut 'a screaming, "Oh, Captain, this is fear!".

But still he ventured forward, to meet his final fate,
Lost and flying tired, confusion was his date.

"Who is this favoured foe-man," spoke The Captain in the dark,
"Does he fight me for a woman or shoot me as a lark?"

Although there was no answer, The Captain kept the route,
His drummer deftly pounding; his floutist played his flute.

As cries of war were sounded, between the stars and moon,
An ambush was upon him, and quickly stopped his tune.

Seven shots were fired, and seven smashed his fleet.
Despite the grizzly carnage, the spectacle was sweet.

The Captain's Hubris Hybrid was winking from the side,
When I viewed his blown armada, on its final bumpy ride.

The violent rage-regatta upon the clouds that day,
Set my soul 'a spinning in a primal sort of way.

Seven swift-split ships: bow from stern, wet from dry.
Overturned and leaking, they sailed down from the sky.

As cannon-blast spotlights spilled sunlight on the sea,
The Captain neared the water, the Hybrid falling free.

This sky-man ocean tumbling, I wondered what he'd feel;
This Hubris Hybrid Captain, atop his busted keel.

Was his battle over? The sea its resting place?
A gathering of fighters coming down from space?

Destined for the water, the foiled Captain knew,
There was no more slalom sailing, nothing he could do.

And so he met the water, where all good Captains die,
Even slalom sailors, who navigate the sky.

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