Regatta 1st Revision

Those days were our wishes streaking,

arcing lazily through the summer dawn.

The timid, moon-sad child within me

attempted to steer the raft and hide from the

blazing sunrise-ship of a shining being, who also dwelled within.



Criss-crossing my fragile wake over the rivers of Night,

never knowing my waterways contained both

little vessels that this one and that one

would sail by each other in,

sometimes waving as if to a ghost we want back,

and sometimes blind to the dual nature

of the foaming green seas of my self.



The rudderless little raft sails on, swirls along the lullabyes of starfields,

high and on fire with

a beautiful sadness, wrapped in the calming

armor of Night, so barnacled by time and grief,

buoyant and unseen by the brutal eyes of the

faceless mariner who steers a shining ship

all through the fears of my bright and burning days.