maritime reflections

my thoughts and dreams were freighters scattered across a strait,
rarely anchored. they wander, and pace
slothily at first, then burst
ahead to a temporal destination.

my actions were their payload
incidental, plastic
with little semblance of the care—
no, what care? the very brainchildren of the rust,
the grime, that lines the hulls of those vessels
swept away only by waves

that flux, reflux, peak and valley
to the whims of other men who err,
react, judge unlike the tide-begetting moon
who, ever-constant in her gravity
in an eternal offering of momentum
rises the waters to forgive
and sink barnacles from the sanguine keels,
lifting each freighter.

her tender golden rays kiss their sighs
flowing gently into the saline breeze
which, singing whispered praises heard in every shell
fill my sails with light.

my thoughts and dreams course waves, pierce billows
and newly unburdened, shine the path they take
towards a shore—there it finds the moon
the stars
and sailors alike.