Harbor nights,
faultless skies,
a shore as wide and enveloping as the dreamless sleep of an untroubled mind.
Draped in darkness, sloping sands curve toward the misty sea,
silvery beneath the moon's pale guidance,
lain over the quiet land, one crescent arm points to infinity,
where light joins warmth and sound in silence.
Tender winds rove upon smooth acclivities,
hovering over banks of silken umber,
betray no trace of life's activities,
only the airy grace girding peaceful slumber.
Into the maw this somber night, are drawn the passions and furtive motions,
the clash and parry, the spurious clarity,
dispossessed offerings of close devotions,
all the remains of the erstwhile day.
From far-flung seas great gales drive forth in impetuous attack,
seething gnashing with unbridled force,
'cross endless fathoms they come floating on silken tracks,
tempered o'er their long journey's course
Bearing salts and scents on laden wings,
earthy meats and musky sweets,
adrift on currents scattered to extremity,
castoff raiments bestir ocean breeze,
elicit bright foams in churning rings.
A path leads through the empty night,
extending into the distant sky,
pieces of the past lie underfoot,
regrets and broken oaths betook,
mingle in the murky silt with forgotten things,
and inchoate joys and germs of dreams.
Tides shellack 'gainst these malleable shores,
where cluttered pebbles wait in store,
toss their bodies in shallow dredges,
sweep away their craggy edges.
each tired swell holding to the ceaseless tide,
knows but one remaining thing,
to its siblings it must abide,
till present bridges long last's fringe.
Once shadows upon the empyreal rime,
fallen onto the oceans vast,
titans of the mariner lore,
thralls to heaven's utterance,
hapless in their sufferance,
be welcome,
to our sloping shores,
our umber sands,
here within the seaside clime,
expire on banks worn soft by time.