Ship of Dreams

Ship of Dreams

No sailors muse ought tarry on the stars
When cast upon life’s ocean deep and far,
Though caged in sextant’s gauge the star he sees,
His guide amid those treacherous stormy seas;

Yet when those stars revealed through shrouds of dark
Cast misty spells of slumber on my barque,
Then Hypnos comes upon the waves of night
To take me to the land of sleep’s delight;

To ship at anchor on eternal shore,
A mighty craft of refuge from the storm,
The steady hand of Morpheus at her helm,
To navigate her safely through his realm;

Tall masts of sloom to harness winds of whims,
Unfurled imagination’s canvas brims;
Exotic currents of capricious flight
Now speed my ship of dreams into the night;

To realms devoid of sorrow and attrition,
Where fronds of peace alleviate contrition
And children’s laughter brings the soul’s respite,
Exulting in the freedom of the night;

And further on, beyond a mortal dream,
Where isles of gods in paradise I glean,
Unto a sky-bound river of desire
That burns with torrid waves of passion’s fire

Wherein do surge a billion sparkling gems
Of hopes and prayers ascending godly realms,
To reach the throne in Destiny’s great hall,
Upon who’s ears those whispered yearnings fall;

And anchored all around that estuary
The masts of ten-score Ships of Hope I see,
All bearing wishes from a hundred worlds,
That pour o’er gunnel’s rail in wispered swirls;

Wherein the winds abate and sails fall fallow
And anchor drops to grapple sandy shallow,
And hatches breached reveal her brimming hold
Filled deep with priceless treasures to unload;

And O’ such precious plunders do I bring!
Trite jewels of pleading souls in suffering,
That in their darkest hour of despair,
From Destiny seek peace in ardent prayer;

And raw do those stones burn with tortured pleas
That bring my hardy sailors to their knees,
Who send those gems of suffering with their tears
To race that river’s flow to godly ears;

And when the final wretched gem is borne upon that stream,
And all the tears of every soul upon that ship of dreams
Are mingled with sweet offerings that float unto the queen,
A ghostly stillness then descend upon that spectral scene;
And I can feel infinity raining down upon my heart,
Yet through the storm I see what joys in rain she does impart;

For stars of love descend in wisps of gold,
That shower answered prayers for those poor souls
O’er empty ships where silent hope endures
To carry dreams come true to mortal shores;

And when my ship with pity’s booty reels
And mercy’s golden wisps do fill her keel,
With anchor hauled and sail unfurled anew,
We plow again night’s seas of darkest blue;

‘Cross astral waves of endless time and space,
Poseidon’s chariot guiding schooner’s chase,
Till gray approaches through receding night,
Revealing shores of day in dawn’s first light;

And now my worthy spectral oarsmen haul,
To bring my lovely ship close in to shore,
And rest at anchor in the Bay of Day
Across mortality’s threshold does she lay;

And in the silent birth of that new morn,
Released those answered prayers on winds are borne
To fall through slumber’s mist upon the meek,
Souls blessed to wake and mercy’s harvest reap;

Sailors of ethereal oceans
Nomads on a sea of notions
Tides of night are now abated
Slumber’s oarsmen rest elated;

Mind awaken, spirit rise,
Morning’s beauty fill these eyes,
Ears awash with nature’s din,
Airs of life caress this skin;

Debark the ship of sleeps delight
Now harbored in the land of light,
And disembark her mortal crew
To tread the solid ground anew;

And face again that worldly storm
With soul restored and worries shorn,
Hold fast that course in tempests wind
Till evening does the squall rescind;

And when you can resist no more
Your soul lets out that stifled caw,
Then turn about on buckled knees
To look for gold in wisps of breeze;

And when another mortal day is done,
And Nyx’s dark domain usurps the sun,
Return again to that eternal shore,
To sail the mighty ship of dreams once more.




Nach-dem-tornado by Winslow Homer Image:

Nach-dem-tornado by Winslow Homer


A craftless ship afloat ill-tempered waters
With neither star nor compass to avail,
Blown on those wintry gales far from safe quarters,
Caught-fast upon a reef my yawl did flail;
For tempests of the heart will hard pursue
On passion’s tides that run love’s ocean deep,
Those ships of lovers seeking harbours new
In ports where love’s rare booty they would reap;
And wisdom’s compass is no guide for lovers,
Infatuation’s stars do but deceive,
To foil intrepid sailors, like all others,
And dash them on those ragged rocks to grieve.
Lament no more my barcarola triste,
For love is least where doleful tears persist!